


In Search Of Lost Paths

by GilornethTheGold



Series: A Light among Shadows [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU in which hobbits can talk to animals, Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, An insufferably handsome one, Angst, Awkward situations, Bilbo is an Idiot too, Bilbo-centric, Cultural Differences, Depression, Do Not Separate The Heirs Of Durin, Durin Family, Durin Family Adopts Bilbo Baggins, Durin Family Feels, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarves In Exile, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Bonding, Fili and Kili are awesome, Flashbacks, Fluff, Frerin Lives, Frerin is Bilbo's guardian, Frerin's A+ Parenting, Friendship/Love, Gandalf meddles a lot, Gen, Hobbits, Hurt/Comfort, Love at First Sight, Movie and Book canon, Overprotective Thorin, Protective Frerin, Protective Fíli, Protective Kíli, Romance, Rule 63, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Siblings, The Lonely Mountain, The Shire, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin's A+ Parenting, always-a-girl!Bilbo, bagginshield, family by choice, messed up timelines, the Quest for Erebor, young!Bilbo, young!Fíli, young!Kíli
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilornethTheGold/pseuds/GilornethTheGold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been ten years since Frerin abandoned his ward. Ten long years that Bellana spends all alone, in silence and growing bewilderment. Until Gandalf prods on her door with his staff and she finally has <i>enough</i>.</p><p>Thorin Oakenshield was completely focused on reclaiming back his mountain. Before Mahal decided to wreck up his life a bit more, for his own private amusement. Why did he have to find his One in a mere, fastidious halfling whom his nephews claim to be their <i>sister?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Page From Diary Of Bellana Baggins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellana muses on her past life and begins to write about her part in an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have embarked on part 2. The first chapter actually serves to the beginning of part three but the journey will be told in a flow of flashbacks, just like the movies did :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

  
I sit beside the fire and think  
Of my journey that has been  
The perils of road and many ventures  
And the various places that I've seen 

Of people I met along crossing paths  
And choices I made in utter haste  
The grim memories and hollowed regrets  
And all the bonds that went to waste  


There was a flurry of activity in her kitchen. Dinner was being assembled, judging by the wafting smells and the noise of clattering crockery, which Bellana dearly hoped would survive the evening. Her pointed ears distinctly recognized the beginnings of another unceasing squabbles that tended to break out between her younger brother and one her of her closest friend. No doubt, she'd have to get up soon and try to sort out whatever issue that had ignited this back and forth.

What if the ended up burning something? Or worse- rousing the twins!

Exhaling a cold sigh, Bellana stretched her weary limbs and rested her head against the back of the sofa.

They had not been expecting Nori to drop by. The Fauntlings were overjoyed by his sudden while Bellana and Kíli secretly mulled over the issue at hand.

The Thief was seemingly having an arduous time settling in Erebor. He dropped by far more often and stayed for longer periods than before.

Not that Bellana minded (though she knew for a fact Kíli did). Nori was dearest of her friends, he could stay for as long as he wished. His presence reminded her of happier times, and almost made Bag End seem like a home again.

_Almost._

She swept a brief glance around her dear old smial, holding the crimson covered book with gold embellishments close to her chest as she attempted to recall the radiant memories of her childhood.

This house was the embodiment of her joyous childhood, orphaned as she was in only the truest meaning of the word. For she never felt the loss of her true parents, the reassuring presence of her guardians had seen to that. But now all the memories were heavily tarnished by the reminiscences of much darker events. Or perhaps it was due to the unexplainable longing she felt, and the growing ache in her heart that made her feel restless in her own house.

She wanted to go back. She _had_ to go back.

Or perhaps it was the fact that Thorin was due a long overdue visit in the following week. Her father's letter had not said much but Bellana knew that she had a tremendous decision to make. One that would shape up the entire course of her future life and that of her children.

 _Her children._ No, that didn't sounded quite right. _Thorin's children._

_Their children._ His, as much as they were her's. 

A sad smile graced her uncharacteristically tired face, deep shadows visible under her hazel eyes. Still the Tookish stubbornness won through, and the Hobbit picked up her quill. With her brow set and her eyes lighting up with determination, Bellana slowly opened her book.

Her flowing script began soon covered the initial page.

**_My dear Theírin and an equally dear Míli,_ **

_You are an inquisitive child Rin, and even now as a fauntling you ask many questions. They, frankly, make me feel quite uncomfortable. Not holding any grudge against your innocent mind. For Ada tells me that I was equally nosy at this tender age and I suppose that you inherited the trait from me._

_I want you to know that you shall receive the answer to all your queries one day, but I do hope you have enough patience of Bagginses in you to bide your time for them._

_Míli, love, you adore stories of adventures, don't you? Well, your Ma had an adventure once. A most remarkable one at that. And now, she is penning it down so you can read it when you grow up._

_One day you will be old and mature enough to know and understand that we simply cannot change the ways of the world. Our paths are already laid before our feet, we cannot turn away from them. We are completely helpless in that aspect. So we have to accept our destined roads. And make good of time that is given to us (in Gandalf's words)._

_I am well aware that you already know snippets of stories from the great Quest of Erebor. But as the storytellers in question were probably myself, your uncles, or your father; we might have embellished the good parts and glossed over the dark ones which in reality shaped the course of our future. Except for Nori, mind you. His mind works to the contrary._

_I will, for your ease and my own, tell the Quest of Erebor in full in my book without omitting a single fact. Years might have passed, but the journey remains fresh as spring leaves in my mind. And if we ever became estranged in the future (though I dearly hope it does not come to that), I do hope you will take time to read it. And try to understand a little why your Ma made the choices she did._

_And perhaps, you might even find it in your hearts to forgive me and your Uncle Kíli, who kept you away from from your true father for so long._

_**Lots of Love,  
B.B.**_

Her quill dropped with a quiet _thud_ against the paneled floor from her unsteady hand. Embers danced merrily in the hearth, crackling as they gnawed and consumed the broken logs that had been fed to them, radiating heat and warmth. But it did nothing to drive away the tight chill in her heart. 

"Bell?"

The familiar figure of her brother appeared before her vague line of vision, crouching down to pick up her feathered quill from where it had fallen on the floor.

Kíli straightened up and proceeded to sink down on the overstuffed sofa, slinging one steady arm around her and pulling Bellana to his side.

"Are you alright, _namad_?"

"How did it come to this Kee?" Her voice hitched as she spoke. The muscles of Kíli's strong arm tightened around her, and Bellana snuggled closer to the radiating warmth of the Dwarf's body.

The Dwarf perceiving her sober and weary demeanor beforehand, tried to respond in a reassuring tone. His brows were furrowed, tired lines etched on his features and yet her brother was being optimistic. "Everything will turn out fine, Bell. Don't lose hope."

She could not for her life see how.

How could everything go right when so much wrong had happened?

How could things go back to the way they once were?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most you would have realized that I used Bilbo's poem from Rivendell as a base for the one used in this one :p
> 
> Things to clarify.  
> -Names I have used for fem!Bilbo.  
> Bellana: Real name. Used by most of people in this fic.  
> Bilbo: Called by Frerin and Fili.  
> Bell: Occasionally used by Frerin and mostly by Kili.  
> -The timelines are messed up. Seriously messed up. I still have to figure them out along with the ages of the charcters. Bellana is 35 however :)  
> -Aragorn and Halbarad are included in this fic or will be referenced. Yep, I am seriously making a mess of timelines. Consider yourself warned.
> 
> And I promise that this series will have a happy ending :D Bilbo is just going into a depression state right now. Everything will be explained in due time.


	2. The Prodding of a Meddler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has transformed into a respectable Baggins, after passing her coming of age. She has more or less given up on her old life and Tookish ways.
> 
> A pity that Gandalf was not informed about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I am back with a long overdue update :D And guys, as this is a direct continuation of Claiming Guardianship, the Bilbo/Frerin arc will only make sense if you have read that :)

Bellana Baggins drew a tiny sip from her steaming cup of tea and became absorbed in her book again.

The Hobbit was serenely seated on an ancient but still sound wooden bench, cunningly crafted out of timber logs by her guardian nearly twenty years ago, in midst of the lush greenery of her garden, a source of never ending pride for the young mistress of Bag End.

Small gusts of wind cooled her bare feet and ruffled her honey curls while the sun beamed down on her from the clear sky; the exact shade of forget-me-nots. Bellana was altogether in the highest of spirits. The morning in particular was proving to be most agreeable to her. No interfering old busy-bodies in sight, nothing to disturb her while the Hobbit was either engrossed in her book, (which was an thrilling tale of how a band of particularly audacious and valiant Tooks found themselves involved in a series of adventures) or occupied herself in her thriving garden.

Indeed, it most a decidedly, delightfully uneventful day. 

_Oh, how prophetic those words were to become._

_**'Someone approaches,'** _ a cardinal fluttered by her curly head and the Hobbit scrunched her eyes in confusion. 

"Good morning!" A deep voice called out of blue, disrupting her pleasant reveries.

Someone halted outside her gate and Bellana, not bothering to lift her head for fear of losing the page, chirped out a greeting in reply.

"I quite agree, dear sir. It is a very fine morning indeed!"

"Yes, yes my dear miss. And even a finer morning would it be if you Bagginses bothered to walk past your doorstep." The stranger replied reproachfully, though his tone was heavily traced with mirth.

To Bellana's immense vexation, the person succeeded in maling her lose her page. "Beg your pardon?" the Hobbit squawked indignantly.

Her hazel eyes looked upwards in mild annoyance, but then words _failed_ her.

And who graced her humble abode with his presence just then? Gandalf the Grey. Who had not appeared in the Shire for nearly seven years. Bellana had ceased to anticipate his visits long ago fearing that like others before, he had lost all sort of interest in Hobbits.

Though anger and indignation bubbled within her, Bellana kept her features neutral and composed. Though the Wizard had no right to visit her house, without prior notice, given that he had not bothered to do so since her tweens, the Mistress of Bag End was not the one to greet a former friend with outright rudeness. So, she settled for cold civility.

"Pardon given," the odd traveler responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned casually against the white-washed gate, clad in the familiar travel-stained grey robes and a shabby pointed hat with wide brim, his old, thorny staff firmly grasped in one wrinkled hand.

It reminded her of the time, when her cousin Paladin had succeeded in whisking away with it; paying for it with no-dessert-after-dinner punishment for a month. 

Steeling herself and not allowing a hint of recognition to appear on her face, Bellana inquired politely. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Ah! Straight to the point, as usual Miss Baggins. Very well, I am looking for folk of particularly adventurous disposition. But it has proved to be quite difficult to persuade _certain_ people to go on perilous errands outside the Shire. But I am quite reliably informed, that I would find such a lass residing under this hill, who may lend out a helping hand."

The said Hobbit flinched. It would never do for the neighbors to overhear such a conversation, which would no doubt be part of the most scandalous gossip in Hobbiton _for days_. Gone would be her days of peace and contentment, if anyone presumed that she had reverted to Tookish life-style.

Not that she would ever want to. Bellana was quite comfortable in her Baggins ways, thank you very much.

At any rate, _she_ was certainly not partaking in whatever adventure Gandalf was hinting towards.

"You are quite mistaken. No such Hobbit lives here." She replied firmly, picking up her book once more. "You are welcome to try your luck over the hill or across the water though." 

The Wizard's gaze remained fixated on her, unwavering, for such a long while that it would have made even the most solid of Baggins quite uneasy. Bellana, though, was thoroughly exasperated by such intense scrutiny and unspoken reprimands in Gandalf's beady eyes.

At last he spoke. "A Wizard is never mistaken, Bilbo Baggins." This reference to her former name, connected wholly to her former life that she had given up for good, truly incensed her. How dare he!

Before she could snap out, Gandalf continued in his usual agravating manner. His thick brows bristled from under the wide brim of his hat, tall enough to block out a part of the sun.

"You have changed, my dear girl, and not entirely for the better. I think a few adventures will be extremely good for your health and certainly amusing for me. Expect the others in a while and do prepare a hearty meal. I shall be back."

"Now look here, Gandalf!" she exclaimed, giving up her childish ruse. Who was she fooling, anyway? "We do not want any adventures here, especially the sort you are wont to bring whenever you arrive! Kindly go away and good morning!"

The last part was really silly to be spoken out as the morning was getting quite out of hand. Bellana got up from where she was seated, dusted her skirts and whipped around on the balls of her furry feet.

"What a lot of things do you use good morning for!" Gandalf replied, his tone entirely annoyed as if _she_ had been the one to disrupt _his_ morning.

"Now you want to get rid of me and the morning will not be any good until I move on. To think I should have lived to be good morning-ed by Belladonna Took's daughter and Frerin Thunderblade's ward as if I was a peddler selling buttons off the door!"

The Hobbit froze in her tracks, barely breathing. How dare he mention _his_ name! How dare he remind her of _him_ again? 

For years, Bellana had ceaselessly struggled to erase the lingering memories of her guardian from her life. Depositing all of Frerin's left belongings in his room, she locked it, never once daring to open it again. The Hobbit was now properly called as 'Bellana', 'Bella' was reserved for close acquaintances (of which she had none), and never responded to the name that her guardian once used to call her by.

 _She needed to bake something_. The apple and cherry crumble would do. Anything to restore her truly grated nerves after this encounter with the 'Disturber of Peace'.

"Ah here they are already!" Just as the Hobbit was about to enter her doorway and fling the round door shut behind her, her keen ears perceived the sound of stomping feet as Gandalf greeted somebody or rather _somebodies_.

"My dear sons of Fundin! Prompt as ever I see, unlike your much esteemed leader."

"Ah! He'd be havin' trouble with the way, mark me words." A deep voice responded with gruff laughter, that sounded more like a rumble of thunder. 

Bellana whirled around in bafflement and no less amount of trepidation, snapping a twig in her wake, just in time to see Gandalf conversing merrily with two strangers.

That happened to be _Dwarves_ of all races in Arda.

The taller of two cut quite an imposing figure with his colossal build, a head shaved halfway from above and lined with inky-blue tattoos, a vicious scar running across one eye and a thick, wiry beard covering his jaw. The Dwarf was clad head to toe in armor and currently peered at her with a disdainful expression, as if he felt the Hobbit to be quite beneath her. Bellana was rendered motionless, never once coming across a person so battle-scarred and intimidating although indignation churned in her heart.

The other had no prevailing grimness of the former one, clad in a thick scarlet cloak and having a long snowy mane of beard tucked neatly inside a gold belt. The duo couldn't have bore less resemblance to each other.

"Balin and Dwalin at you service, Miss Baggins!" The older Dwarf said with a beaming smile and they both bowed low, the warrior grudgingly so.

"Bellana Baggins at yours." Bellana replied automatically in the proper manner, although she felt quite bewildered by the proceedings. Why were there Dwarves (Dwarrow, she instantly corrected herself) outside her smial and what would they do with her service anyway?

"When is the rest of our merry gathering, arriving?" Gandalf asked, clearing his throat. 

"Saw the young lads down that lane," Dwalin (if her memory still served well) said with a nonchalant shrug, gesturing vaguely towards the path. "They'll be arrivin' soon. No idea 'bout the others."

"Not that it matters, does it? Balin replied, smiling kindly at the Hobbit. "Miss Baggins will require some time for preparation, I believe."

"Ah yes, preparation. For what exactly?" The flustered Hobbit inquired warily.

Dwalin stared at her like she had grown an extra head. "The food o'course. What else would it be? Unless, ya been efficient an' ya prepared it already?"

"Food." Bellana repeated. "No I didn't prepare- I wasn't aware I had guests! Food for how many to be precise?"

"Don't be precise," he gave her a sudden grin, that threw his scarred features in sharp relief. "But if ya want to, there'll be thirteen of us in total, not countin' the Wizard."

Her head _reeled._

She had to cook for fourteen people! But why her? How did they even obtain her address? Panicking, Bellana turned to face Gandalf, but to her shock and growing horror he had simply vanished without a trace.

_Wizards._

Bellana rubbed her temples, trying not let the situation overwhelm her. She couldn't very well turn away her guests, unexpected as they were, and she'd hate to argue with sharp axes. Being polite was such a bother sometimes.

"Not looks very delighted at the prospect, does she?" Dwalin muttered to his brother, who nudged him sharply in return.

..........................................

Bellana cringed.

Nightmarish sounds echoed from the direction of her well-stocked pantry. The Hobbit made her way to the kitchen indignantly, just in time to see Dwalin throwing away her prized blue-veined cheese with a noise of disgust.

"What are you doing- you can't just toss out my Bree-cheese!" Bellana rather wished she had kept her mouth shut in restropect as the Dwarf towered over her, glowering darkly. 

Her voice whimpered out. "I just bought it."

"Was trimmin' with mold, you tryin' to choke us?"

Balin frowned, and nudged him again in the ribs. "That is no way to address our host, brother. Miss Baggins, we are merely inspecting your abode to see whether it will accommodate our company or not." Or to be more specific, thoroughly inspecting her larders to see if there was enough food.

The Hobbit gawked at them, as the snowy bearded Dwarf's words sank in. Fiddlesticks and rotting mushrooms! The duo were _brothers_?

"I think I shall have to pay a visit to the Hobbiton market, I wasn't expecting Company- you understand surely." Bellana said, wincing as the warrior-Dwarf pulled open her painstakingly polished and dusted drawers in an exceedingly rough manner. "Do... do you know when will the rest come?"

Her pantry could probably outlast a whole legion, but Bellana desperately needed a long, refreshing walk. There was no way otherwise, that she would be able to cope with so many Dwarvish visitors. 

She was still in dark regarding the purpose behind their arrival. It intrigued and mystified her immensely as of late very less number of Dwarrow passed through the Shire. The Hobbit couldn't however, gather enough courage to actually inquire about it. Even as various possibilities whizzed through her mind.

"I don't think we can predicted exactly when they will arrive, Miss Baggins." Balin sighed. "As a rule most of us are not very punctual. And the Company is not very familiar with Shire routes-"

At that moment, the bell rang loudly but ceased shrilling the next moment. It seemed as if someone had broken the string mechanism. A thunderous rapping on the smial's door followed afterwards, as if to make sure that the whole household had been roused. 

"Excuse me, I must get the door." Dwalin now began to wolf down her batch of seed-cakes, reserved for the second breakfast. 

Bellana sighed before saying dryly. "Do help yourself."

.........................................

The Mistress of Bag End pulled the door open plastering a smile on her face, not knowing what or whom to expect, when her eyes perceived yet another two cloaked figures standing outside.

Dwarrow. More _Dwarrow_. The day was turning out delightful indeed. 

She had barely time to register their faces before the new arrivals said in perfectly coordinated manner.

“Fíli.”

“And Kíli.”

“At your service!”

They bowed in unison, and straightened up with a flourish and Bellana's keen eyes quickly began to commit their features to her memory.

One was slightly taller, his hair of a dark chestnut hue held loosely at the back by a silver clasp. His eyes were dark as his hair, and a scruff of beard graced his jaw. The Dwarf, who had worn a solemn expression upon entering Bag End, now smiled exuberantly, and surprisingly Bellana found some of her trepidation melting away due to the contagious grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

That was before she saw _the other one._

The hobbit nearly had a fainting fit, and staggered back a step. The Dwarf to elicit such reaction from her, was blond with eyes the color of forget-me-nots. He glanced at her with an air of quiet confidence, and something strange flashed in his eyes as they locked with hers.

“You alright, Miss Boggins?” Kíli asked, mild concern coloring his tone. Bellana parted her mouth and left it hanging open instead of uttering a comprehensible word.

She looked back and forth, peering at the duo, struggling to regain her lost composure. A fit of hysterics threatened to take her.

She saw _him._

In Fíli's blond braids and Kíli's warm eyes. The similar facial structure, the same angular noses and in the reminiscent of their deep Dwarven voices.

The duo bore an uncanny resemblance to her guardian, who had known no qualms about dumping his adopted ward without a backward glance. Who had not once bothered check upon her in _ten_ years.

“Yes yes, I am fine, no no please don’t do that!” The Mistress of Bag End exclaimed, breaking out of her stupor. Her horror grew as the brunet began tracking grime in her scrupulously tidy smial and proceeded to wipe the traces of it from his huge, mud-encrusted boots on her late mother’s beloved glory box.

Fíli sauntered in after his brother and began stripping himself of his weapons, placing them in a neat pile by the closed door. The Hobbit gawked at him, rendered speechless as various blades and innumberable daggers were brought out from places unimaginable; hems of his tunic and trouser, hilt of shoes, seemingly invisible pockets, layers of leather so on.

They Dwarf grinned at her baffled face, his lips parting to say something when-

“Lads, ya gotta see this!” A gruff yell, Dwalin’s presumably, echoed from her pantry.

"Mister Dwalin's here already?" The brunet asked, disappointed. "I thought we were the first to arrive!"

"You better go and see why he's calling," Bellana said weakly, willing them to go. She desperately needed a few moments (and a steaming mug- no, _pot_ of tea) to recover her disoriented self.

Thankfully, the Dwarf nodded and the duo made for the pantry, leaving the Hobbit all alone by the green door. The blond glanced back at her with sudden concern but Bellana, holding on to her umbrella stand for support, waved him off.

What else could she do when faced with _her father’s sons?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are going along the Quest of Erebor but some or most of the scenes will be altered, I am not going to strictly stick with canon.  
> -And I created the title for Frerin :D Bilbo does not know yet that his full name was 'Son of Thrain', or that he is a prince  
> -So Bilbo is going through a denial phase where she refuses to believe the existence of her guardian, who she considered to be father as he left her without a word 10 years ago. She believes he is not coming back and thats why she has changed her life a lot. Gandalf, being Gandalf, decided to pop this adventure on her just now :p


	3. A Perfectly Imperfect Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bellana is a very unwilling host to a boisterous party, and Gandalf brings some events to light, which long resided in dark.
> 
> Thorin has a different story to relate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not even have the words to say how sorry I am for having delayed this chapter and abandoning my fic entirely for months. I had jaundice and took almost one month's leave from school. Had to work hard to catch up and cover my syllabus. Hopefully, the following updates would be regular.

A chaffinch fluttered around her head, as the Hobbit shuffled with leaden steps on the path leading to the Bagshot row and her steadily approaching smial; her arms laden with shopping baskets. Bellana feigned deafness if any other Hobbit called out a greeting and flinched if anyone happened to approach her. Feeling far too distressed and emotionally drained to make small talk and exchange pleasantries, she opted for a lesser known route leading to Bag End.

Inspite of her best efforts, one of her neighbours did manage to catch up with her as she turned to take the bend in the winding lane. Violet Chubb rambled on and on about how her poor brother’s niece’s cousin twice removed had lost his cat and how her seed cakes batter would simply not rise and could Bellana perhaps share her recipe for it?

Bellana had nodded her head sympathetically at the alleged grievances, making all the appropriate remarks and sounds while her brain scrambled for an excuse to escape. People were exhausting and she had thirteen guests to cook for.

Was it too much to ask for a few moments of solitude?

**_"Chhhi,You are distturrrbed,"_** the bird trilled out as he landed on her drooping shoulder and cocked his grey crowned head at her. 

Bellana sighed, knowing how inquisitive Chirpa could be. He would peck at her ear until he extracted an answer from her.

"Gandalf visited at last, just this morning. It took ten wretched years for him to visit, and do you know what he did? _Dwarves!_ He brought Dwarves with him! Four of them are at my home, there are more coming, apparently, and I don't know what to do, or how to-." Her rambling giving way to silence, Bellana exhaled a sigh.

 ** _"That's not verrry nice of him,"_** Chirpa hopped to her other shoulder. **_“But, chhhi, have no worries Bella, you will cope with it fine. You always do."_**

With that, Chirpa hopped off from her shoulder, spread his tiny wings out wide, and soon soared out of her line of vision.

Bellana watched him go away with a sinking heart. She wouldn't have minded the company of her little friend, but Chirpa had his own family to look after. The chaffinch's words, though meant to be comforting, did not reassure her in the slightest.

Her shoulders drooped even lower as her shaking hand closed around the gleaming brass knob of Bag End, and after many moments of trepidation did Bellana opened it to enter inside.

..............................

"It seems like rest of our company will arrive late in the evening," Fíli informed her, lending out a helping hand as he glanced over the colossal amount of groceries she had balanced on either arms. Bellana hesitated before allowing him to relieve her of her burden. She was about to thank him profusely, when the Warrior-Dwarf took hold of one basket and a knuckleduster clad hand began probing inside.

"Master Dwarf!" Flushing with anger, Bellana slappied his one wrist (that was without a knuckleduster thankfully). She took advantage of his dumbfounded gaze, and grasped hold of her precious basket.

"This food is for rest of your companions along with whatever you have left in my pantry, if you don't mind. Otherwise, they will all go hungry and we will know who is to blame," she said in an offended tone. Such outright rudeness and blatant disregard of socially accepted behavior and mannerisms, always managed to loosen her tongue.

The warrior stared at her, eyes widening with bemusement. The Hobbit flushed, this time from embarrassment and slight fear, quickly averting her eyes and fixing her gaze at the panels of the kitchen door, imagining patterns that were not there. Bellana abhorred being gawked at, especially by battle-scarred, unexpected Dwarf visitor- who greeted others by bashing their skulls. Bellana steeled her quaking nerves, and took a deep breath. The wooden panels of Bag End's green door had faint scratches, the floor needed a thorough scrubbing, the sheen of polish was wearing away from her toadstool tables...

The Hobbit eventually retired to her bedroom to change into more practical clothes, not paying heed to the burst of jovial laughter or Kíli's gleeful snigger. "Old Dwalin scolded by a Hobbit!" And Fíli's quiet musing. "She can be fierce alright."  


And at that precise moment, someone knocked at the front door and nearly battered it down.

...............................

Thorin son of Thrain was having a perfectly fine day in this delightfully green flowery place. He had not spent a decidedly exasperating meeting with the lords of seven kingdoms, who had definitely not stated subtly that he was holding on to foolish whims. He had a most agreeable trek over the Blue Mountains before arriving at his destination.

He was definitely not lost. The idea of King under the Mountain (in-exile, thank you graciously Lord Helkir for mentioning that) straying from his course, was simply ridiculous, laughable even. 

_Mahal, who was he fooling?_

Thorin looked around himself glumly, searching for any clue that might tell him that he was in right direction.

He had long lobbed his plan of the Shire into a rut, branding it incomprehensible, and now the monarch was regretting at how he had discarded the only thing that might shed a light on where in this Mahal forsaken place he was.

As much as the Dwarf resented admitting it, he had a hopeless sense of direction. His aimless wandering in this mind-boggling labyrinth of hobbit-holes and dirt paths for _Durin only knew how long_ could attest to that fact.

Thorin racked his brain, trying to recall the jumbled up directions Gandalf and Balin had both vainly tried to instill in his mind. Only faint snatches stood out in his mind. "Turn by Bywater, go straight until you see a large oak tree, turn right until a large hill comes in sight. Make your way towards the smial on the top, with a green painted door." 

Thorin took another glance at the endless row of ridiculously round doors of Hobbit-holes, each one annoyingly similar.

Suppressing the frustration within him, the Dwarf made his way round the nearest lane blatantly ignoring every whispered mutter or jovial greeting that followed his way. He did not bother to ask for directions, for finding that damned smial by himself was a matter of pride now.

_He had worked his way out of much worse fixes. He could do it._

Finally he was at wooden gate, then the door, rapping his knuckles with considerable force against the bright green wood illuminated by a strange mark near the landing. Thorin's gaze swept briefly downwards in direction of the nearly camouflaged bend he had just passed by, internally wincing at the amount of time he overlooked the narrowed path.

Relief was a bucket of steaming water dumped over his head to wash away the tight chill of irrational anxiety as the door creaked open and a much familiar face welcomed him inside.

He shot his brother in arms a withering look, who pointedly countered it with a smug expression, then proceeded to smile wanly at his sister-sons acknowledging their presence.

"You made it here in a good time uncle," Kíli stated, smiling exuberantly. Thorin felt some of his frustration fading away, a smile tugged at his lips at the sight of his younger nephew's beaming face. "Dwalin bet you'd be last to arrive!" 

His elder nephew at that moment smoothly snatched a biscuit jar out of the said Dwarf's hand.

"Master Fíli? Did someone else...oh!" Someone took a few tentative footsteps into the hallway and Thorin turned around instinctively.

He was no longer aware of the others who surrounded him on either side, the lightened hall dimmed and swam in his sight. For a moment his mind went blank, utterly, blissfully blank with shock.

The first thing Thorin registered about her was her mop of soft, honey curls which swished round her face at every step she took, glimmering like molten gold under the glare of hallway lights. Her skin was ivory in shade; unmarred and free from any flaw but as the Hobbit turned her radiant face towards him, Thorin saw her cheeks were tinged a ruby pink.

The Dwarven king-in-exile blinked stupidly, half expecting her to vanish in thin air.

The Hobbit flushed deeper, her expressive hazel eyes locking with Thorin's, before they fixed themselves on his muddy boots. He found it oddly endearing. The rich curve of her plump lips tightened ever so slightly and Thorin knew he wanted to ravish it there and then, all consequences be damned.

_He was in so much trouble._

"I think introductions are in order," Balin smiled and stood from the armchair on which he was previously seated. "Miss Bellana Baggins allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"At your service and so forth," the Hobbit sighed, still refusing to meet his eyes. Her gaze however leapt upwards as Dwalin shuffled around. 

She stared at the burly Dwarf in anguish while saying in an impossibly polite tone. "Mr Dwalin please don't spoil your appetite, just give me a moment to set the dinner." The Dwarf in question looked up briefly with a mild glare, before snatching the jar of cookies from Fíli.

................................

If Dwalin had managed to intimidate her, it was nothing to what Bellana now felt at being the object of intense scrutiny of the Dwarrow leader. 

He was incredibly handsome with a well-built figure and strong dwarven features. As the Dwarf loomed over her, the difference between their conflicting height and statures became quite apparent. His hair swept downwards in a raven-black cloak, two long braids framing his face from either side but the feature to instantly enamor Bellana were his eyes. Deep, icy-blue orbs which glinted under the hallway's lights and seemed to penetrate through her very heart.

 _Struck by lightening, struck by lightening. Focus. Breathe. Calm Down._ The familiarity of her mantra, however did nothing to calm her quaking nerves.

It was his regal and imposing demeanor that awed (and intimidated) her beyond words. She knew instantly that he was an important Dwarf and it wouldn't do to cross him. In any other circumstance, she wouldn't have dared to speak to him. But now as a host, she was obligated to.

_Pull yourself together, girl. Only a few visitors, there's no need to get yourself so worked up!_

Bellana, after she had regained her composure and decided against telling Dwalin off for wolfing down her caramel stuffed chocolate cookies without permission, was on her way to the kitchen.

Then Thorin (where had she heard that name before?) had to open his mouth.

"This is the burglar?" His eyes studied her from the top of her tousled curls to her bare ankles; incredulous and largely disbelieving.

"What burglar?" She inquired perplexed, squirming inwardly. "We do not have burglars here in Hobbiton!"

"Do you have any experience in fighting?" Any trepidation on her part vanished away and annoyance replaced it. _Did she appear like a warrior in Hobbit skin for Yavanna's sake?_

"Some skill with a blade if you must know." She replied matter-of-factly, trying to size him up. "Although, I don't quite see why that is relevant?"

The following insult rang for a long time in her ears, though Bellana hoped it was unintentional. "What was Gandalf thinking of? She looks more like a nursemaid than a burglar!" Master Oakenshield had turned around to face Balin and missed the look of disgust passing over her features. She was a respectable, genteel Hobbit not any _nursemaid or burglar_!

Cold leftovers from yesterday that was all the offensive Dwarf was getting.

And then a knock sounded at the door, announcing the arrival of more visitors.

....................................

The evening for the hobbit, was nothing short of a nightmare. She liked having her house to herself, detested being in company of more then two people at once and the invasion of a dozen uninvited and unwanted dwarves did nothing to improve her spirits. 

If Gandalf had not appeared in the morning, she was sure she would be hallucinating. Or else that her cousins who had a reputation for being outlandish (Saradoc and Paladin namely) were pulling a very poor prank on her.

_Yet three more dwarves._

They introduced themselves with deep bows-Nori, Bofur and Oin, and greeted each other jovially taking no further notice of their flustered host.

There were dwarves raiding her poor pantry, dwarves moving her furniture all around with so much as by-your-leave, dwarves tucking into her food with relish, dwarves playing and juggling her precious crockery (a set that had been in Baggins clan for ages), dwarves emptying her barrels of ale while their leader stood brooding in a corner, staring at her constantly which was slightly unnerving.

Bellana was getting definitely snappish, something considered to be a novelty in solid, comfortable Bagginses and therefore most unbecoming. She had ceased acting as a hostess long ago, the dwarrowfolk clearly were quite capable of _helping themselves._ The hobbit just wanted to curl up in her snug feather-bed and pretend she was all alone once more before this invasion of dwarrow claimed ownership of Bag End.

Gandalf had arrived the last, merry as you please. He had kissed her forehead and assured her repeatedly "No, no my dear girl. What a ridiculous notion! You are certainly not dreaming."

Bellana stood in a corner, horrified, as they made a boisterous racket while consuming any food present in her now decidedly empty larders. Someone burped rather rudely which set off a round of applause.

Etiquette's indeed. Grandma Laura would have a great deal to speak about them. She winced to think how her Baggins relation would react if they saw the wrecked state of her larders.

The odd-looking dwarf with grey braids stopped her in the middle of her tracks to convince Bofur and Nori to leave her silverware alone. He proceeded to inspect her thoroughly from every direction and Bellana flushed with anger.

Before she could utter a word, the dwarf walked away muttering, “So the prophecy is true. Curious indeed.”

“Oh yes,” Bellana snapped. “The prophecy is true. I am officially going fiddlesticks, Mad Baggins they will all call me!”

The dwarf looked at her beadily and put his trumpet to his right ear. “Fall?” Who is going to make you fall?”

The hobbit lass fumed in silence, proceeding to yell frantically at Fíli and Kíli for juggling with her precious West-Farthing pottery.

It set them of at once. They all began a jaunty tune with fiddles and pounding her silverware, laughing at her fastidiousness, and the words Bellana caught with clarity were “That’s what our lovely hobbit hates!”

It didn’t help at all when Kíli grabbed hold of her hands and began an impromptu dance across the room, in perfect sync with the beat, and she was all but gasping for breath in the end.

"I wouldn't worry much if I were you, Miss Baggins." Thorin addressed her at last, noticing her less-than-happy expression. "They will clean up after themselves."

"They have done a good job at clearing up my pantry at any rate," Bellana groaned.

The poor hobbit took her head in her palms, lamenting her ruined evening and the destruction the dwarves were wreaking on her sanctum.

............................................

It was quite late in the evening for a hobbit-hole to be still stuffed with guests, but Bag End had it's fair share of odious guests before. And as Bofur put it, the real evening had just begun.

Balin dimmed all the lights in the hallway saying "Darkness for dark business, Mistress." Against her better judgement, a tingle of excitement ran down her spine. The dwarves were all seated by the hearth, indulging in hushed conversations. She could almost piece their conversation together if listened hard enough.

The main gist of it all was that the dwarrow were going on an important quest with Thorin Oakenshield as their leader to gain back something.

"Should we wait for others to begin?" Bofur asked at one point. 

"I directed rest of the company to Green Dragon, the famed inn of Hobbiton," Gandalf told them. He shot Bellana a sideway glance. "Most of you are not aware of it, but our dear hostess has a natural aversion to large amount of guests. It wouldn't do to overwhelm her on the first day."

Thorin groused. "How is she going to put up with us if she is inclined towards introversion?" What was Gandalf even thinking to achieve by bringing _that creature_ on such a perilous venture. The dwarf did his best to appear cold and aloof, hopefully _hopefully_ she would think twice before agreeing to join them

Bofur added, cheerfully, "She'll do fine." The hobbit glared at the three of them, however grateful that the whole company had not been inflicted upon her. _She wouldn't have survived it._

Bellana, seemed lot less assured and lot more unnerved as the meeting proceeded and their dark business was thoroughly discussed. The dwarves aired their views loudly, most of them in great spirits about the quest and the rest expressing their doubts. At length, Gandalf had brought out a much creased map.

"Bilbo, my dear girl. Let us have a little more light."

"It's Bellana."

"Oh do excuse an old memory."

Balin, no doubt one of the important dwarf in the company present, began recounting the tale of the fall of Erebor during which Smaug the dragon invaded the Lonely Mountain, acquiring its vast halls of wealth for his own. The tale was obviously known to the dwarrow seated around the long, wooden table but they still listened politely, the younger ones with enraptured attention.

Bellana also listened with awe, this being the first time she heard the tale in full and without any embellishment.

“I think Bilbo, you know that tale by heart now.” Gandalf interrupted soon afterwards, puffing at his pipe without a worry in the world.

“I do, but in your version no one got killed and the dragon was slain in the ending.” She replied, accusingly. “And it’s Bellana.” 

Gandalf smiled, invariably recalling her younger days.

“The ending is yet to be written, but we must really get on for the night is getting old and there is much to be discussed.” The wizard proceeded to spread out the map on the table and handed Thorin a rather long barreled key with intricate runes carved into it. The latter held it in awe for a few moments or so and fastened it on a fine silver chain that hung about his neck.

For a while, the dwarves poured over the map and Bellana was immensely interested in spite of herself. The possible existence of a hidden door by the side of the mountain was thoroughly discussed. At length the conversation turned towards her prowess as a burglar or an 'expert treasure hunter' as Balin put it. 

"But I do not know anything about treasure hunting!" The hobbit had exclaimed. "Why this is the first time some one mentioned it."

"She is hardly burglar material," Balin added.

"She'll not even last long," Dwalin had grumbled. "We need ter find another one."

Thorin turned to meet Gandalf's eyes. "I will not have such a vulnerable creature out in the wild. She will be of no use to us."

Gandalf seemed to enlarge in shape and thundered out that she was a perfectly fine burglar and that she was essential to the quest. Oin and the younger lads at once voiced their agreement.

“I know she may not seem much but without Bellana Baggins, the quest cannot be achieved. She has a great deal to offer even if appearances suggest otherwise. And while Smaug can sniff out dwarves from the mountainside, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to the dragon which gives us a distinct advantage.”

Oin added. "The portents say as much."

“I fear that he’ll devour her before she figures out any advantage,” Nori said, quite sensibly.

Poor Bellana was greatly flustered by the proceedings, dimly knowing that Gandalf was about to rope her in an adventure which she knew only vague details about. 

"But what are we up against? You cannot be surely thinking of waging war against a dragon!" 

The quest was ridiculous notion! What could a mere dozen or so dwarves do against the wrath of the dragon? And for all Gandalf was a wizard, Bellana was certain that he had never faced such a demon rather than killing one.

"We may be few in numbers, but we are all fighters," Fíli proclaimed. "We have sworn our loyalty to the king and we will see this quest through." A loud chorus of agreements from all sides of the ancient table followed.

"And we have a wizard on our side," Kíli added. "Gandalf would have slain hundreds of such worms in his time!"

The dwarves however begin to look a tad bit doubtful when Gandalf failed to give a response to Kíli's confident statement and a small fight pursued in which they argued loudly about whether or not he had killed dragons before.

Then Thorin spoke, the rich timbre of his voice instigating hope and passion in the stout hearts of the dwarves and their doubts soothed away. Even the sensible Baggins felt something twisting in her heart and for a moment the intensity of his deep-throated voice had her convinced that it was possible. The quest could be achieved, the dragon slain and a lost home reclaimed.

At that, Thorin ordered Balin to hand her the contract. Bellana read only a few words before she let out a horrified gasp.

_Funeral Arrangements_  
_Evisceration_  
_Incinerations_

Reality struck.

And she proceeded to do the only thing a highly reputable Baggins could do in so an outrageous situation. _She fainted._

.......................................

It took her a moment to register that she was in her own room, and someone had kindly started a fire in the hearth which cackled merrily. A familiar face appeared in her blurred sight.

"Just give me a minute or two, I will be fine."

“You have been cooped up in this cluttered hole for far too long! Tell me, my dear girl, when did you become so content with merely continuing your life in the Shire?”

“I cannot go on this Quest, Gandalf,” she said quietly, trying to block out his chiding voice. Oh, she had spent last ten years struggling to make her place in the Shire. What had she not done to win the approval of her Bagginses relatives? Bellana had long ceased indulging her Tookish whims, tried concealed every memory of her past; in order to prove herself to be respectable.

And the folk of Hobbiton had accepted her. If she consented now to what Gandalf proposed, she would lose their good opinion forever.

“I remember a young faunt who was always rushing off to the woods in search of elves! A hobbit who would have liked nothing better to see what lied beyond the borders of the Shire, who would have never let the prospect of adventure pass her by.” Trust that old meddling wizard to bring up her childhood fancies like that.

“She grew up when left on her own, I suppose,” Bellana replied, coldly.

“And do you not want to know why you were left alone? Gandalf asked, gently. “And what became of him whom you called father?”

Tears brimmed up in her eyes, but she refused to let them trickle out.

“My father died during the fell winter when I was but a faunt,” she rubbed furiously at the moisture in her eyes.

Grey eyes, full with remorse and understanding peered into her own but she steeled herself. The wizard had no business turning up on her doorstep after prolonged absence and bringing up the part of her life that she had long buried.

“I know you always mean well, Gandalf,” Bellana spoke with sigh. “But you have got the wrong hobbit this time.” _The one whom you seek died long ago._

.............................................

“It appears that we have lost our burglar,” Balin remarked, glumly. “You alright, laddie?”

For the keen eyes of the venerable dwarf had noticed the indecisiveness in Thorin’s regal bearing. The said dwarf wrung his hands nervously.

“I do not know what has come over me this evening,” he said in response, quietly.

“Dain’s response still clinging to your mind?” Balin asked, shaking his head. “Ah, let it go. We didn't expect their help anyways.”

“No it’s something else. Balin, she…she is my…One.””

“What are you talking about?”

“The burglar.” Thorin said shortly.

“Oh, well.” The adviser replied after a moment of flummoxed silence. “That is indeed hard luck.”

Thorin inhaled sharply before asking. “How is it even possible?”

“Thorin, lad.” The old dwarf looked at him sharply. “It is a novel but not unheard thing to find your ayungzel in another race. Oin mentioned something about it, but I took it as his usual nonsense.”

“It is well for us then, that Miss Baggins is remaining here. I risk diverting my attentions during-”

“Don’t be foolish. Once you find your One, there is nothing else for it but to be with her. Or fade.” Balin shook his head again. "This certainly complicates the situation."

Thorin glowered at him. Subtlety was not after all, one of a dwarves strongest point. At that very moment, Gandalf appeared from behind.

"Why the long faces, my good dwarves?" He asked, eyes twinkling. Thorin glared at him, head throbbing. _Oh for love of Mahal!_ He certainly did not need to see the wizard now.

"The lass turned your offer down," Balin replied wryly.

"I have known Bellana since she was but a child." Gandalf said, making his way to another room. "She will come around, mark my words."

That did not bode well with the king. He was conflicted with a burst of unexpected emotions, he feared for her safety yet relief pooled in his heart. He could not have expected to see her again, if they went through the quest without the hobbit; in which they all might very well perish. 

…………………………

Bellana woke up in the midst of the night, and twisted and turned until she found a comfortable posture and sighed drowsily.

Her ears perceive faint snatches of a heart-stirring melody and she opened her eyes in surprise. 

_The dwarves were singing._

Perhaps it was in the deep-throated singing of the dwarves with the rumble of Thorin’s rich voice rising amongst the others, or the way someone struck the music on a harp, sad and sweet that swept her away into the dark lands veiled under strange moons; quite far away from her little hobbit-hole. It echoed around the rounded tunnels of the smial, a beautiful haunting tune that seemed to send you in a trance.

A great desire ignited in her heart to travel outside the Shire, away from the prying eyes of her neighbors. To explore the yet unseen and prove herself and face the perils on the road with a valiant heart. To let go of the burden that weighed heavily on her heart and give up all pretenses of being a proper hobbit.

Or perhaps it was the wave of nostalgia that swept over her due to the dwarven voices, for she had often slept in the comfort of the arms of guardian, his warm voice singing a soothing lullaby long after she had fallen asleep. How she would refuse to let go of his hand when he would try to get up, and how Frerin would always give in and lie down beside her. He would laugh and encase her in the warmth of his strong arms, kissing her forehead and murmuring a soft tune in her ears till she fell asleep once more.

_She would go on the quest. It promised answers._

_She would find Frerin._

The last coherent thought in her mind, before she fell prey to land of unconsciousness again was 'Maybe it would have been worth it'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Firstly, I made up the directions to Bag End they are not accurate!  
> -Secondly, there is a possibility that there will be 4 parts instead of 3.  
> -Finally, I know I mucking things up by not having the whole company arrive at Bag End. But as Gandalf knows about Bellana predicaments, it would have been cruel of him to dump 13 dwarves on her without forewarning.  
> -One more thing, Bellana being Thorin's One and he recognizing her for what she is for him, is not a _true love on first sight_ situation. He does not like her yet, and same can be said for her. They have a lot to go through before they finally start liking each other.
> 
> Even though, I am hardly satisfied by this chapter, it had to be updated...I hope everyone liked it!


	4. Hobbiton and Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the company sets out with their newly appointed burglar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I am back with an update! One thing I want to mention, English is not my first language readers :) I might make mistakes now and then and quirky word choices so bear with me!

A booming crash woke Bellana up and she sat up with a jolt, drowsily rubbing the sleep from her eyes; wondering what could be the origin of such a horrendously loud noise in the gentle, rolling hills of Hobbiton.

The events from the night before flooded into her mind and she struggled against the sheets, clambering out of her snug bed. The hobbit slipped on her dressing gown and washed her face, running a comb through her disheveled curls with all possible haste.

Now to face that old meddler and his _avalanche_ of dwarves. Bellana halted by the bedroom door, mustering her courage and shuffled into the long corridor outside the room. She stepped in the front hall, wondering where Gandalf might be (and what he might be up to), only to stop short and gawk at the sight that met her poor eyes.

Every inch of space in the spacious hall was occupied by a sleeping dwarf. Their stocky figures were stretched on sofas, armchairs and the paneled floor; cushions, pillows and bed sheets flung hither and thither. The floor was cluttered with lumpy travel packs and other belongings. Deafening snores echoed around the halls; surely that was how an oliphaunt in pain would sound? 

Bellana snapped her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, wishing there was someone she could reproach for subjecting her to _this mess. Couldn't you at least wait until I had a cup of tea,_ the poor hobbit wanted to ask.

After reopening her eyes a moment later (sadly the view did not change), the lass noticed that there were dwarves in the room that were, in fact, awake. Thorin Oakenshield along with two of his comrades was seated in the furthest corner of the room, surrounded by sheaf of what looked like her beloved maps. They were speaking in low voices, so engrossed in the task at hand that her presence was not immediately registered.

For a moment or two, she stared at them with a vacant expression. _Her maps. How in Arda had they acquired them?!_ The hobbit was willing to bet an acorn to an oak that the noise that had woken her up earlier was the loose cabinet in her study-which they were certainly NOT supposed to get into. It was supposed to be locked!

Bellana shook her head. Never mind the maps, she had other important tasks to do. Finding Gandalf was currently her first priority. The dwarves were sure to know, they couldn't possibly have gotten their gigantic paws on her precious maps without the assistance of a blasted wizard; _who also happened to be one of her guardians._ Only he was privy to the place where she had kept them concealed from prying eyes of her neighbors.

Taking utmost caution not to trip over the sleeping and snoring figures (that would be rather unfortunate) the hobbit made her way to the most approachable of three, Mr Balin if her memory served.

After a polite greeting she asked politely, "Can you kindly tell me where Gandalf might be at the moment?”, trying not to cringe as the warrior-dwarf handled one of her maps; none too gently. 

Balin handed another map to the dwarrow leader, who ignored her completely for the moment, before turning to look at the hobbit with a cheery grin. "Aye. He's in your kitchen lass." _Your kitchen._ As if there remained anything in her household that was still under her control.

She nodded silently and took a step back, only to notice that the leader, Thorin, was now glaring at her as though _he_ were the one being affronted, as though it was _his_ home that had been invaded, _his_ larders that had been pillaged, _his_ rugs that had been trampled and ruined. Bellana couldn't fathom why he was looking at her in that way but decided it would be best to just... leave it be. Cautiously, she retreated, skirting around the sprawling, snoring dwarves to get to her kitchen.

.............................

"Wipe that frown off yer face," Dwalin muttered out of the corner of his mouth. He had pointedly ignored the brief exchange between the hobbit and his king, but Thorin knew better than to be fooled by that. He realized that his cousins would pay the wretched hobbit extra attention from now onward, if only to aggravate him further. "Y'll frighten the poor thing away."

The king in exile raised his thick brows condescendingly. "You are one to talk. Now, quit your mumbling, let others doze on for a while. We all shall be grateful for a fitful night's sleep out in the wild." His usual tactic to change the subject, however, did not work so well with his brothers-in-arms.

"My brother has a point," Balin stated, ever the diplomat. "I fear that your impression on Miss Baggins is not a very favorable one."

"I could not care less for my impression on anyone at the moment, much less on Bellana." Thorin countered with a scoff, looking at Dwalin and Balin with narrowed eyes, who stared back at him with those identical, annoyingly smug faces. His palms itched. “We wasted precious time in making this pointless journey, only to be told that the appointed burglar will not be joining us. Gandalf was mistaken. We shall not see her again after we leave.”

"So it is Bellana now?" Dwalin inquired, smirking and giving him a shove. The dwarven king had realized his slip slightly too late. “Didn’t know ya were on first name terms with the burglar.”

Thorin knew that he would pay for it later. "A single word to anyone, and I'll wipe that smug grin off your face with the blade of an axe." Dwalin's smirk only grew wider, amused by the thought that his cousin might consider this possible.

............................

"Good morning! A fine day for travel, isn't it?"

Gandalf greeted Bellana with a beaming smile, as if their conversation last night had gone off wonderfully. Bellana huffed, muttering beneath her breath as she put on the kettle for tea and sparing only two minutes to stare morosely at the vacant state of her pantry. Well the food would have gone to waste anyway, now that she was joining this fool's quest. Her emergency supplies however remained well-stocked, and breakfast was a must in any case. 

The wizard was puffing merrily on his intricately carved pipe, and the hobbit wondered how to approach the subject regarding her decision. Instead she informed him in a highly miffed tone. “There's barely enough food left to make breakfast for the lot. Not to mention, I missed two of my meals yesterday!”

Gandalf replied, unperturbed. “You should get used to fewer meals; food has to be rationed on road. As for breakfast, why I am sure you can put something together for those who are up. The rest can eat at the Green Dragon, our immediate destination from Bag End." She did not quite like the way he said _our._

"Must I go?" she asked halfheartedly, frying up two eggs. The wizard blew luminous, blue smoke rings towards her in response which transfigured into fluttering birds as soon as they reached her. 

"Of course you must. This quest can not be achieved without your help."

"But," her hands trembled. "What could I possibly do against a dragon of all things? Gandalf you seriously expect me to steal from it?"

The wizard's brows furrowed and he peered at her with a gleam in his keen eyes. She knew he was going to spout utter nonsense at her as usual, without actually answering her question. "Many things might be done against a dragon. Whether they work out or not is another question entirely. As for what is your part in this quest, you shall know that when the time comes." _There._ Gandalf never disappointed.

The wizard must have noticed her less-than-happy expression for he clasped her shoulder gently. “Bellana, you don’t give yourself enough credit. The dwarves don’t know you yet, and they think of you as the weakest link in the group. But you may find there is more to you, my hobbit, than even you know. For in the end, only you will have the ability to confront Smaug. I think I should stress again on this, _the dwarves cannot achieve this quest without your help._ ”

Her eyes widened as the realization hit her. Gandalf was referring to her gift of silent speech. It was an ability bestowed upon few rare hobbits; mainly those of Fallohide blood. Her mother could communicate with woodland creatures, by reaching out in their minds, speaking without actually moving her lips.

Belladonna Took had passed down this ability to her daughter. But a dragon? Would her gift work against such a creature? Or would Smaug simply choose not to respond and swallow her up on the spot? The kettle began singing and Bellana rushed to take it off.

“Do not overthink it,” Gandalf advised her she poured herself a cup of tea, and one for him begrudgingly. “You need to make a decision, and the dwarrow outside are waiting.”

The hobbit glared at him, fiddling nervously with her fingers and began with halting words."About them, the dwarves...I was thinking, well, few of them-they, they look like _him_ and-"

"Bellana, my dear girl" Gandalf said emphatically. "There are many things you think you have forgotten. You must find out these answers for yourself."

“I might never return,” her voice came out small and quivery, perhaps a last attempt to prevent herself from agreeing to the wizard’s preposterous proposition.

Gadalf crouched down besides her, and she buried her face in his arms. “My child, do you want to return?”

She closed her eyes, mind going blissfully blank and spoke out. “...No.” A great weight lifted from her chest.

The old wizard smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. He then handed her the contract written in Balin's neat, meticulous handwriting. “Help the dwarves. Leave the Shire and begin your life afresh. Let go of the past that haunts you till the day.”

The hobbit wiped her hands, and took hold of the parchment with quivering fingers. To her credit Bellana did not faint while reading it again. And yet again. After silently admiring Thorin's signature, she signed her own name in front of 'Company's Burglar' with a flourish and exhaled out a sigh. _There, Bilbo, old girl. You have taken the plunge. No turning back now._

Walking with soft but confident footsteps as only a hobbit could manage, made her way to where the trio of dwarves were seated, set the breakfast tray before them with a Baggins precision and proceeded to hand her contract to Balin. She did not notice Thorin’s appraising look nor Balin’s calculated one, as the food was placed in front of them.

Without waiting to gauge their reaction she slipped out towards her own room, already exhausted with the day and tried not to think of her decision.

..............................

Thorin choked without having anything down his throat to choke on. And Dwalin had the nerve to thump him violently on the back.

"Keep yer eyes inside the bloody sockets, or they'll pop out and roll all the way down the hill," Dwalin grouched. He began to wolf down the breakfast, making small snorts of appreciation. Noticing his cousin’s ferocious scowl the dwarf spoke with a mock-scared look, chomping on a piece of buttered toast. “Oh do stop looking like a disgruntled orc with indigestion. Yer scarin’ us!”

"She cannot come, Balin," Thorin whispered furiously, ignoring Dwalin’s input and directing a glare at the hobbit’s retreating figure. "The Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves. Out there we have no assurance of her survival."

Balin waved the contract in his face. "She signed it lad, in case you didn't notice. There is no turning away now. And we have just as little chance of survival as she does."

"I'll burn it!" Thorin said angrily, not bothering to keep his voice low. Balin hurriedly placed the contract away from the reach of his calloused fingers. "She doesn't know how to defend herself. I will not allow my One to get in any sort of danger."

Dwalin's eyes bulged almost comically, and Thorin dealt him a solid blow to the skull, dearly wishing he had something more substantial than his fist to hit his comrade with.

"Don't speak like that. She is not an object that you can lock up to keep it safe," Balin admonished, sounding exasperated and half-offended.

"Can't a person get two winks in here?" Nori called out loudly, tumbling down from an overstuffed sofa. Bofur, who very unfortunately was dozing at the foot, gave a loud yelp and woke up with a start.

“Oww! Get away, ya great beast!” The toymaker fumbled away, rubbing at his back. He glared at Nori. “Ya must’ve have broken all me ribs.”

“Sorry, love.” Nori yawned and stretched. “Didn’t notice you there.”

Bofur yelled with a martyred expression. “For a moment, I’d have thought the whole sofa had fallen down on me. And you’re just sorry?!”

“You don’t make a soft landing either,” Nori scoffed, effectively igniting a full-fledged fight with the offended dwarf. Fíli and Kíli woke up from the din the duo created. Bofur threw a cushion in thief’s direction but Nori ducked. It ending up striking Kíli square in the face.

The young dwarf blinked. “What the hell was that for?” He stared the dwarven duo, Bofur on top of Nori, who were now shouting insults and yanking each other’s hair.

“Did we miss something?” he asked with a sly grin. Another cushion came flying towards him, but the dwarf deftly caught it in his hands.

Fíli added his input in a drowsy voice, rubbing at his eyes. “Are you two together now?” In response, a pillow landed on his face.

“A great day for bloomin’ romance,” Dwalin said, pointedly smirking at Thorin. “Maybe I’ll get lucky too.”

Grabbing the opportunity to stop a fight between Thorin and Dwalin which would have resulted in snapping of the table (surely Miss Baggins would not appreciate that!) Balin shouted at length. "Up on your feet lads. I have an announcement to make. Miss Baggins has very graciously agreed to become the Company's Burglar!"

Loud whoops (and grumbling from Oin, who had just been roused to consciousness by Nori) echoed around the hall and ensuing fights were momentarily forgotten, as the dwarrow registered this news.

"Excellent!" Fíli grinned, rolling his blanket and slapping Nori with it on the back. "Pay up!"

"I should have known." Thorin shook his head, smiling fondly in spite of the exasperation he felt. Just having finished his (rather excellent) breakfast, he began to roll up the maps with utmost care. Miss Baggins had seemed rather anguished when she saw them in his hands. _Perhaps Balin had been right about the impression thing?_

"Always pay heed to what a wizard says," Kíli proclaimed grandly before turning to yell at Dwalin. "You owe me!"

..............................

After changing into a simple blouse, a skirt of dark blue fabric and lacing on the matching bodice hurriedly, Bellana stood in front of her wardrobe indecisively. She most certainly was not going to trudge in the wild in just her skirts, thank you very much. Having already taken out her old travel pack from the store room and her bedroll, she straightened them out on the bed; smiling bittersweet at memories of her former childhood rambles around the Shire.

Sorting through her various garments, the hobbit pulled out her old pair of trousers (which thankfully still fitted her) and three of her thickest shirts. After packing these articles along with her undergarments neatly, she opened her wardrobe once more and brought out a bundle of garments placed carefully out of sight. Halbarad Dunadain had made hobbit sized travel garb for her 25th birthday which included a leather tunic, dark brown in color. She also placed it in her pack. Next was a pair of thin leather boots with a simple design in thread running throughout. Lastly, she fished out her travel cloak. It was woolen, plain grey and cut in a simple design. The fabric felt warm under her hands and she decided to wear it over her current clothes. 

Bellana placed the boots and the cloak in the pack too, deciding that she would change into them when they reached Bree. She then went out of her room to the one right next to her. The door was locked and had not been opened since at least last five years.

With trembling fingers she unbolted the door which creaked open due to lack of use. Taking a deep breath, she entered it. Everything was caked in layers of thick dust, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling and corners. An unpleasant musty smell lingered inside. It was pitiable indeed to see the room of her guardian in such abandoned state.

Bellana opened the old wardrobe standing in a nearest corner, which happened to be nearly empty. She quickly brought out a heavy old sack and a small hinged metal box which was placed in a far off corner.

Shuddering, she bolted the door and almost ran towards her room startling a lone dwarf on his way to the bathroom.

"You alright Miss Baggins?" the said dwarf shouted after her. She recognized him as the one who had been rambling about strange prophecies but did not recall the name in her present state of mind.

"Yes, Master dwarf. Just packing!" she said, quickly entering her room. Not the politest response to a concerned inquiry, but she couldn't care less at the moment.

She settled on the bed with the box in her lap, not bigger than her two hands joined together. She traced idly at the dwarven runes which decorated the edges and pushed back the latch. The hinges were stiff, and she felt a bit guilty for not oiling them, but that was quickly forgotten as she examined the box’s contents.

Tears welled up in her eyes. What strange things for Frerin to have kept so close at hand! Scraps of her scribbles from the time she had first began drawing along with few of his own creations, dried flowers crumbled almost to dust now, pretty stones that Bella remembered picking up on the banks of the nearby brooks proclaiming them to be jewels. Some of his old pens and brushes, beautifully carved, were placed in it too.

At a corner were a pair of non-identical beads. Beads he had made for her with his own hands, which she had thrown in this box, vowing never to touch them again. One was of silver with gold running through it and tiny runes carved in the exact center. She could still remember Frerin’s voice as he braided it into her curly hair. _“If you ever are in need meet another dwarf and show them this one, they will help you.”_

They had been sitting alongside the Brandywine River, under the shade of an oak, after visiting her relations in Buckland.

_“Ada? Come on, we must go!” The fauntling cried, almost tripping over a broken branch in a sudden burst of excitement. She had been out for a private investigation of the surrounding thicket, and decided that it was the perfect spot to have an adventure._

_“Go where Bilbo?” Frerin asked, his dark eyes looking up from the task at hand. She glanced curiously at his carving tools, then apparently had decided that they held no current importance._

_“There are elves in woods. I know it, know it yes. I wantto see them!”_

_“Alright I am coming," her guardian replied, shaking his head. "Just a moment, oh B-Bilbo do be careful!”_

_A sickening crack was heard as young Bilbo skidded over a stone and fell to the ground with ‘thump’. Alarmed, Frerin reached towards her in two strides bending down to take her in his arms._

_“Foot hurts,” she whimpered._

_“There, there love it will be alright,” her guardian replied in a soothing tone, inspecting her ankle. “You have twisted it, I’ll have to bind it.” He took out a strip of cloth from a pocket, proceeding to bind her ankle with gentle admonishments._

_“Can’t see elves now,” her round hazel eyes brimmed with small pearly tears. “Can’t go adventurin’.”_

_“It’s alright, **mizim** ” his warm voice whispered in her ear, as the dwarf wiped the faunt's teary eyes with his bare hand and placed a kiss on her forehead. “You can go adventuring when you are older.”_

“Oh, I am older now, ada.” Bellana whispered softly to the air. “And I am going on an adventure now from which I might never return. Would you have wanted that? Would you have let me go?”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and picked up the second bead; mithril bejeweled with round chips of aquamarine. Tiny runes marked the borders and a large emblem was carved in the middle of the gem. _“Only show it to others in times of emergency. It marks you as my daughter.”_

Turning the beads round and round in her fingers absently due to the influx of memories she had long tried to bury, Bellana pulled them in a piece of string and wore it around her neck. She closed the box carefully and began to view the contents of the worn sack. With extreme caution she drew out a long blade and a short dagger. _My weapons,_ she thought examining them them reverently. It felt strange to hold them in her hands after so long.

Her pack was already packed with a water-skin, a sketchpad and some spare money along with many other necessary items for the journey(whatever the rangers said about travelling light, she certainly was not going without her soap!).

After a few minutes Bellana felt as if she had packed enough. Now to give her relatives the shock of their lives and be the choice gossip topic of the year in Hobbiton.

Internally wincing, she drafted out a hurried letter to her Aunt Donnamira and Uncle Isengrim asking them to look after her property and possessions till her return.

The dwarves were almost ready and deep in conversation, greeting her joyously as soon as they saw her. With hurried apologies, Bellana slipped out of her smial and spotted her gardener clipping at the hedgerows.

Bracing herself, she spoke surprised at how steady her voice sounded. “Good morning Hamfast! I am going out on a prolonged journey with Gandalf. I trust you will look after Bag End while I’m away?”

“Has Master Frerin returned then?” The gardener inquired, glancing at her with a forlorn look. He began muttering under his breath. “Ha! He goes away for years while poor Mistress mourns and then returns out of blue to take her away.”

Bellana drew in a sigh. “You’re not to talk about him like that. Now do keep an eye on my house, there’s a good lad.” She swept a glance around her beautiful garden and the adjoined path. After placing the parcel in her mailbox, she went inside Bag End.

"I am ready," the hobbit said in a small voice meeting no one's eyes.

………………………  
They arrived at the Green Dragon in less than an hour and with few minutes to spare. Bellana chatted with Lily Boffins behind the bar and bought herself a steaming cup of tea and two cherry tarts. The dwarfs settled on a huge table and began gulping down mugs of ale. Bellana shook her head (ale in the morning time? What were they thinking!), inching slowly towards the table where Gandalf was sitting alone and smoking Longbottom leaf.

"Should I buy something for them?" she asked in a worried whisper, slumping into the other chair.

"Ah, no need my dear Bella. Travel expenses including food is all covered by the company's cost. Though," Gandalf regarded a pair of dwarves just joining at the Company at the table. The remaining company was tickling in twos and threes, bidding them good morning before joining others."You could buy them all fruit tarts if you like."

The breakfast was a loud affair and everyone met her with boisterous cheers when Bellana brought enough tarts to go around. She was then introduced to the other half of the company she did not not know.

"I'll never memorize all these names," she muttered with a sigh, as a soft-spoken dwarf with a sweet smile in a knitted cardigan shook her hand. She had already forgotten his name, for they all sounded so similar, although it was a short one.

"No worries Miss Baggins," Balin said kindly. She glanced up startled, not expecting anyone to overhear her in midst of the raucous conversation going on. "You are doing well enough so far. We can always tell you again if you forget."

"Nothing like a good breakfast before a long day's ride," A red-haired dwarf proclaimed loudly, patting his belly as they set out.

"Ride?" Bellana spluttered. "No thank you, I'd much rather walk. Just think of it as a walking holiday. I even got as far as Frogmorten once."

"Don't be foolish," Thorin frowned at her. "We shall make little progress if you walk and we certainly can't stop and rest whenever you get tired. And besides we have already payed for fourteen ponies."

Bellana watched Dori and Bifur fix her pack to her saddle although she knew well enough how to do it. She didn't know how to tell them to let her do it herself. They might consider that rude. And anyways, she didn't know enough Khuzdul to communicate with Bofur’s cousin, who she had been informed could only speak in his native language.

The dwarfs had already mounted on their steeds and Gandalf was riding a beautiful white stallion. Bellana faced her own mount, working her courage up and with a very determined expression, hauled herself up.

She plummeted downwards and into the dirt a moment later. 

The pony, Myrtle, stared at her as if in contempt and neighed. **“I'm not a haystack you know.”**

 _“Well,”_ Bellana rubbed her back. _“It’s not like I have ridden much before.”_

Myrtle did not reply but stamped her hooves, making her feel quite stupid. She glared at the chestnut mare, and was about to make a second attempt when she found herself lifted right out of the ground.

Fíli and Kíli laughed gaily as the deposited her kicking self into the saddle.

She grumbled halfheartedly. "Was that quite necessary?"

"It was funny," Kíli grinned as she steadied herself in the saddle and grabbed hold of the reins. “You look pretty, all flustered up.”

She flushed, sneezed all of a sudden, and flushed a bit more. Fishing for her usual handkerchief in her pocket the hobbit exclaimed out loud before she could stop herself. "Botheration!"

The dwarves all turned back to look at her and Bellana felt as if her cheeks would surely burst into flame. The last thing she wanted to do was to bring attention to herself.

"What's the matter?" Dori who was the nearest, asked in a worried tone.

"It's nothing," she replied hastily. "I just seem to have misplaced my pocket handkerchief." Out of blue something hit her square in the face and Bellana glanced up in surprise just to see Thorin grousing at Bofur.

She looked at her lap where a piece of rough cloth had landed. It was clean enough. The hobbit smiled her thanks to the grinning dwarf and folded it carefully.

The rest of day went of pleasantly, the sun shining down on the company as the rode on. Bellana got to know the dwarfs slightly better, well at least she recalled all the names and managed not to offend them. The lass directed her pony close to Gandalf who engaged her in merry stories of his travels, while the dwarves sung loud and merry travel songs.

They reached the borders of the Shire that evening and halted for the night. The hobbit had an unfortunate encounter with another hobbit who was intent on stopping her from going just then, quite by chance.

"Of all the scandalous things to do! Taking up with dwarves!" Otho Sackville-Baggins shouted. How had he reached there, just in time to meet up with the Company she did not know. 

She was wondering what could she possibly do to send the obnoxious hobbit away but Gandalf took matters into his own hands before Bellana could even begin to come up with a response to Otho's tirade. The Wizard's horse picked his way carefully around the shouting hobbit and, when Gandalf twiddled the reins, stepped sideways. Otho was knocked off his feet and into a rather deep and unpleasantly muddy puddle. The dwarves roared with laughter as the hobbit floundered out onto the road again, spluttering indignant insults, then sloshed down the road, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him.

“You're making sure that not even tatters remain of my reputation,” Bellana grumbled as the company began to set camp, but her heart could not help but leap in joy as she peered around, and the woods came into her sight marking the borders of the Shire.

Gandalf faced her with a twinkling smile. “You've already lost it, so why not make the most of it?” He did have a point.

So Bellana complied by taking a leap over old farmer Brussel’s pumpkin and nicked a few mushrooms on the way to search for the nearby stream. That night as she bedded down, a careful distance from the dwarves, she thought that she was more content at that moment than she’d been in years.


	5. Journey Into Wilderness

“Burglar, get up now!” Thorin’s sharp tone roused her to consciousness when other gentler voices failed to do so. “You shall make us late!”

“Adventures! Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things.” Bellana groaned and rose up grudgingly. She was tempted to call the leader plenty of not-so-pretty names, but the sight of cold disdain blatant on his face put an end to that.

Bombur was serving breakfast in colossal wooden bowls when she returned from the nearby stream, having scrubbed herself thoroughly clean of the mud and grime (goodness knows what else) that clung to her skin. Thunder rumbled overhead and dark clouds hung low in the sky. A chilly breeze blew fiercely across the camp. The Company finished up hurriedly to set off before the impending downpour.

Adventurous prospects declined further, for being in the constant pattering of the raindrops felt pleasant only for the first few minutes. Soon, the hobbit was soaked to skin and utterly miserable. Bellana thoroughly regretted not donning her tunic and trouser. Her clothes stuck to her unpleasantly and errant curls plastered across her face and tickled at the neck.

She wrapped her woolen cloak tightly around herself in an attempt to ward off the chill; however the frosty wind and torrent of rain continued the onslaught. Myrtle seemingly stumbled into every rut or puddle across the road. The prospect of facing her scandalized Baggins relations was the only factor that prevented the hobbit from turning in direction of home.

“Mr. Gandalf!” Dori called out, his voice muffled by a clap of thunder above as they proceeded downs the muddy trail. “Can’t you do something about this deluge?”

Gandalf turned around, looking very annoyed. “Wizards are not for interfering with the weather of the world, Master dwarf!” This ignited an argument about whether or not wizards could control weather elements, different views being bellowed to and fro over the wailing wind (the wizard in question did not comment further and Bellana had her doubts).

Dwarrowfolk did not mind the rain and the mud, Bellana considered, as long as they could still march through it. They all complained incessantly though (despite the fact that their tunics and hoods sheltered them better against the weather and they were _certainly_ much drier in comparison to her). 

“Why the long face, Miss Boggins?” Bellana started and whipped her head around in bewilderment, not having noticed Kíli direct his buckskin pony towards her.

“Better not tease our burglar right now, Kee.” His blond brother said, mildly. They had her covered from either side which was slightly disconcerting.

“It’s nothing Kí-oh, do be careful!” The hobbit exclaimed in alarm as Kíli started leaning precariously from his trotting pony. “It’s just the rain and lack of sleep; making me feel out of sorts. Nothing to worry about.” She laughed nervously, and gasped as a gust of icy wind blew over her face.

“Everything fine, Miss?” Fíli asked, even after this reasoning, a slight undertone of concern evident in his voice. His braided blond hair flicked in the breeze as he watched her intently.

Bellana swallowed hard and tightened her hold on Myrtle’s reins. “I am also ruing the loss of my breakfast. And wondering whether I turned off my stove or not. Hopefully my gardener will check the knobs before locking the house.”

Kíli passed her a confused glance. “We already had breakfast.”

“I meant second breakfast,” she clarified. It turned out that nearby dwarves, who usually ignored the hobbit burglar, were actually paying attention to this conversation (how they managed that over the howling gale and thunder, she couldn't fathom). An outrage broke out over this. Gandalf then informed the group at large that hobbits consumed seven meals a day and prompted Bellana to explain names and the exact timings of every mealtime to a very baffled audience.

“It sounds sensible,” Glóin said and stroked his beard thoughtfully when she finished.

Bombur nodded. “Meals should be plenty and often.” He proclaimed this in a very decided tone.

“Well, Miss Baggins certainly is an expert cook. Still remember the taste those cherry tarts and seed cakes of yours.” Bofur said with a chuckle and those who had eaten at Bag End nodded their agreement.

“If you all have finished talking about food, can we get a move on?” Thorin barked from front (which meant he had been listening too). Relieved not to be the center of attention anymore, Bellana directed Myrtle forwards.

The rain lessened to a light drizzle as they pitched camp in a sheltered grove and the hobbit changed into her travel garb, vowing never to set a foot outside the Shire without wearing them in future. 

She then sank to the ground, running her fingers through the grass blades absently. The long spells of riding without pause were a torment to Bellana, who possessed neither the strength and nor the endurance of Mahal’s creations. Her back was sore, her limbs ached. She didn't even have the energy to push back her damp curls from her eyes.

But there were still tasks to be done and the hobbit got up reluctantly.

“Bother burgling and dwarves and this wretched quest,” she muttered beneath her breath, relieving Myrtle of her load. The pony neighed but did not speak to her; apparently she was not overly fond of her owner.

Bellana had barely finished doing that, when Thorin began to assign duties.

“Nori, Balin scout around, Bifur take the first watch. Bofur, Ori look after the ponies. Óin and Glóin get a fire going, Bombur and Dori you two take care of the lunch.” He paused to stare at Bellana; she sensed his usual scowl even at a distance. “Fíli, take Miss Baggins with you and look after our water supplies. Dwalin, Kíli see if you can find anything edible.”

 _Miserable dwarf!_ She wanted to say. She didn't though; he would probably tie her up and leave her here or worse make her go back to the Shire. As much as she wanted to return home, she couldn't, not now when the hobbit had already came so far.

Thorin had acknowledged her finally, but Bellana could not for her life think what she had done to personally offend him. _I don’t want to be on this stupid journey anymore than you want me to be here!_

Fíli ambled over to her side with a kind smile on his face, almost as if he knew how much exhausted she was and that she couldn't help it. Bellana hauled herself to her feet. It took quite an effort and _by Yavanna_ her back and limbs twinged dreadfully but she only let out a slight wince and steeled herself. Complaining would not make her any less tired only succeed make her seem even more feeble.

“Here,” the blond handed a couple of water skins to her, after she had steadied herself. “Finish your up and we’ll fill that too.” They walked (more like he walked and she dragged her feet) over to a clearing where Kíli was counting his arrows.

“Where are you going?” Bellana inquired as the brunet took out his bow and started heading towards the adjoined forest. Dwalin spoke a few words to him and had vanished from sight, a spear gleaming in his knuckleduster clad hand.

“Hunting of course,” Kíli stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Have to see whether I can find something good enough for Bombur’s pot.”

“Can I come with you?” Her face lit up with eagerness. “My father tried to teach me the proper use of a bow amongst other things but, well, mine broke.” Or rather Bellana had broken it in a fit of uncharacteristic anger over the mantle place and then anguished over that for weeks, but of course she did not mention that.

Sensing indecisiveness in the demeanor of the young dwarf, Bellana deflated and stepped back. They must think her clumsy at the least and she would probably scare off any possible hunt.

Fíli nodded to his brother who responded hastily. “Oh yes, why not? I want to see how you fare with a bow.” His jovial grin made her perk up a bit.

They made their way cautiously in the thicket. The hobbit quickly concealed herself behind a growth of heather bushes with plenty of green, leafy cover; while Kíli shimmed up an ancient chestnut and bided his time for the approaching footfalls of the woodland beasts. Bellana closed her eyes shut, concentrating hard. She inhaled the earthy smell of the ground and the musky scent of heather, trying to calm herself and reached out from her mind to see if any creature was present.

A pair of coney’s were burrowing in the nearby bushes but having heard the dwarven racket they rushed off. A fox slunk about in the undergrowth, ears alert for any danger. But no that wouldn't do. They waited for about a half-hour, completely motionless but alert. Bellana felt the urge to move her knees, for it seemed that there was no possible hunt in the area they had chosen, when all of a sudden she sensed a herd of deer coming their way.

She inched her face upwards to look at Kíli who nodded silently, having himself heard approaching of the beasts. She watched as the dwarf's keen eyes tracked the deer in the herd until he found one – the weak one, the old, the ill, the young, and the vulnerable.

The silence lingered heavily in the air, and the hobbit waited for the dwarf to aim his mark with bated breath. Without warning, a single arrow glided through the air and struck a doe between shoulder and upper leg. The doe teetered and crumbled to the ground, dead, the rest startled by the sudden movement took flight.

“And that’s how you do it Miss hobbit,” Kíli said proudly, clambering down from the chestnut even as the thrashing hooves of the herd trampled the ground. Bellana smiled and praised his obvious skill with the bow.

“Do you want to try it?” Without waiting for response, he handed her the bow and an arrow. “You see that apple? That one on the tree by the gorse bushes. Try hitting it.”

Bellana gazed the dwarf with widened eyes, knowing how rare it was that one could trust another with weapons.

“Go on,” his voice encouraged her.

She took the bow hesitantly in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship, fingers tracing the curved mahogany surface. Concentrating hard, Bellana observed her target and mentally calculated the distance and pulled back the arrow on the bowstring until it would go no further. Bellana closed her eyes, imagining it leave her hand, gliding through the air and landing perfectly in the exact center of the apple.

And she let it go. The arrow whizzed through the air, landing in a branch, missing the ripened fruit by a good many inches.

“You’re good,” Kíli said, sounding surprised. He took his bow back, sighted the target and quickly shot at it. The apple landed to the ground with a _thud_.

“I missed,” she replied, embarrassed. 

“Still it was a good shot,” he replied with a grin, slinging the bow on his back. “Let’s take our hunt back to them camp. Mahal, I can’t wait to see Dwalin’s face when he sees this. Fee! Bring your lazy ars…self here and help us!”

........................................

The first night out in the wild, with night sky for a roof, the chill making her bones rattle and great lumpy roots sticking in her already aching back did not bode well with the hobbit.

Add a couple of dwarves to the mix and any trace of sleep she felt on coming, drifted away. Bellana got up from her bedroll in frustration. Óin and Glóin had turned in; their snores deafening as thunder in a storm. The rest were gathered around the fire, roasting the remains of Kíli’s hunt over the crackling flames and conversing animatedly, laughter echoing all over the camp.

Bellana, who had been lying on a turf of soft grass close to where the ponies were tethered well away from the dwarves, scooted closer to Myrtle to lean against her flank.

“What do you think, girl? Are all adventures usually this tiresome?”

Myrtle did not answer, busy in nibbling the grass. Bellana rolled an apple near to her muzzle from her pocket; the one Kíli had shot down for her.

“You like apples, don’t you?” The pony ate the fruit in one crunch and continued grazing.

“Fine, don’t answer me!”

She had the impression Myrtle did not like her much as Bellana still detested riding and couldn't get comfortable with the pony's bouncing gait. It was discomforting to say at the least, to know that the creature would not respond. What if the dragon did the same?

 _Don’t think, don’t think about that!_ She told herself severely. Oh! How she wished she was back in Bag End, tucked in her warm and comfortable bed, reading a book under the light of a candle until her drowsy eyes gave way to sleep…

Another pony trotted towards her at that moment, it’s glossy chestnut coat gleaming under the moonlight.

The hobbit took a deep breath. "Hello, good friend."

 _ **"Hello,''**_ Minty replied. Sudden joy pooled in her heart at being able to establish the mental link. _**"Do you have any more of those apples?"**_

Bellana searched hurriedly through her pockets, and took out some berries she had picked up while trampling the wilderness. "There you go." Minty chomped them down the berries with a snort and settled down beside her.

Bellana allowed her mind to relax, casting her eyes about. The landscape around her was illuminated under the glow of moon: wide, lush green stretch of hills with occasional gullies where streams trickled down among the cluster of trees. The landscape was familiar but still felt oddly desolate.

The hobbit glanced around the camp just then, her heart filled with longing for home. Gandalf was propped against a large rock, beckoning to her. So Bellana dragged her bed roll to that spot, plopped down and encased herself in a blanket. Fíli and Kíli were seated near them, one carefully sharpening a dagger and the other smoking a curiously carved pipe.

Bellana swept a quick glance around the camp, realizing just then; Thorin and Balin were not present.

“They are out scouting,” Gandalf informed her in a casual tone although she had not asked him. “Trying to determine the paths we are going to take in the morning. I suggested going to Rivendell.” He sighed.

Her lips quirked upwards. “That conversation did not go on well, I’d bet.” She was well-acquainted with dwarven inclination towards elves or the lack thereof.

“As well as you expect,” The wizard scoffed, blowing on his pipe crossly. “Thorin refused the suggestion point-blank.”

“Gandalf I was wondering,” Bellana swallowed, and he motioned to her to continue. “Ah- why did the dwarves choose now to recapture the mountain?”

The old man simply waggled his brows at her. Somehow he knew the question that haunted her at that moment was not the one she had spoken out loud.

“I meant that the fall of Erebor occurred many years before I was born. And the exiled dwarrow settled in Ered Luin by then, weren’t they? So why wait for so long to regain the mountain?”

“My dear, your Shire is safe, safer than the roads outside. There are many dangers that lurk in the places where they lead, especially in form of Orcs. There were some who placed a dear price on wiping out the Durin line. The dwarves could not afford to venture out so soon after the dire consequences of battle in Azanulbizar.”

Bellana drank in this piece information with eager curiosity. “You never told me what really happened in that battle. And I take it that the company is somehow related to Durin line?” Here she stopped, and tried hard to gulp down the lump in her throat. “ _He_ was a Durin too, wasn’t _he_?”

“ _He_ was and is still a direct descendant of Durin line, if _he_ is the one who I conjecture you mean. Thorin and his nephews, Fíli and Kíli, are heirs of Durin too.”

 _Frerin was still alive. Gandalf would tell her if it was not so._ A strange feeling came over her, strong, chaotic emotions surged up in her heart. Over years she had came to thought him as dead for if he were, in fact, alive wouldn't her guardian have once checked on her? He had loved her as his daughter once; didn’t some of that love still linger in his heart for her?

Or did he stay with her out of obligation for so long, and had finally enough? No, Bellana couldn't bring herself to believe that. Either something big happened, maybe his kingdom needed him, or that love for her had finally waned.

Or, he already had another life beside her and he had chosen them over her. Fíli and Kíli, his sons by blood.

She spoke out again, quietly now, shivering but not from cold. “They are related?

“They? Fíli and Kíli are related to Thorin. They are related to _him_ too. Well, technically everyone is related in this group to one another somehow. And you are related to two of them though not by blood.” Gandalf really delighted in such absurdities. Speaking in a series of confusing riddles was a favorite talent of his, polished over years.

He clasped hold of her shoulder suddenly. “Bilbo, my dear girl, they are related to him but not in the way you’re thinking off. Fíli and Kíli are Frerin’s nephews too, but not his sons. You should really consult the dwarves about this matter. They can tell you more about dwarven genealogies than I ever could. And if you want to know about it, they can tell you about battle of Azanulbizar too, though it is a topic of great sorrow for most. Do not speak of that battle lightly! And it is better if you don’t speak to Thorin about it at all.”

Her head ached. “As if I was going too, and it's _Bellana_ to you.” she muttered noticing Thorin and Balin returning from scouting. She burrowed down in her blanket, avoiding their gaze, her thoughts a tumbled mess. _Nephews, nephews, surely she knew them? And if they were Frerin's nephews wouldn't that mean he was Thorin's- no that was a ridiculous notion._

Her eyes widened. “Wasn’t Fí-

A shrill scream ripped through the darkness of night, effectively cutting off the merry voices around the fire and those awake stiffened.

“What was that?” Bellana spoke out, a chill running down her spine. That guttural sound was oddly familiar, though the hobbit could not for her life think where she had heard it.

“Orcs,” Kíli responded from across the fire, his face uncharacteristically grim. “The lowlands are crawling with them. You have to beware at the night Miss Boggins, careful not to wander off too far from the Company.”

“They strike in the darkness of night when everyone is asleep and off guard.” Fíli added, his expression matching the brunet’s. “Quick and quiet, no screams.”

“Just a lot of blood.” Kíli made a slashing motion with in the air.

“But Orcs make a lot of noise, slashing down everything in their path,” Bellana argued, oblivious to the joke.

Just then, she realized that Fíli’s somber expression actually hid a smile and Kíli let out a gleeful snicker. Bellana huffed, but could not help smiling in spite of herself.

“You think a night raid by Orcs is a thing to joke about?” Thorin’s voice cut in coldly he strolled near to warmth of the fire. “A chance to prank the burglar?”

Bellana scowled at the leader. Thorin’s words had the desired effect; Fíli and Kíli were thoroughly deflated, their wide smiles rapidly fading.

 _It was a harmless joke!_ She wouldn’t put it past her guardian to do the same, given the chance.

“They didn’t mean anything by it,” she snapped, astounding everyone. Thorin stopped dead in his tracks, surprise flashing through his chiseled features. She would have become dispirited herself at the cold stare he directed towards her, so devoid of emotion, at any other time.

“You know nothing of the world, burglar.” With that he walked away. She thought she could see a strange flicker in his deep blue orbs, but wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Bellana got up on her feet, picked her blanket and made her way towards the disheartened brothers. They made space for her and she sank down to the grassy floor between them. It would be considered quite scandalous in the Shire, sitting in close proximity to a male but out here in the wild she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“My father loved to pull my leg like that.” Bellana told them with a small smile. “And I fell for it every single time.”

Fíli smiled back, apologetically. “It was nice of you to stand up for us, but we really shouldn’t have teased you, Miss Baggins. Please don’t think less of us for that.”

“But you should get used to it anyway,” Kíli added. The blond reached over her shoulder to pinch him.

“You’re not helping, Kee! Anyways, Miss Baggins we noticed you sleep away well away from the company. And even uncle mentioned that it's not practical out here in the wild.”

Kíli took up. “And someone may or may not have suggested informing you of that. Subtly, of course.”

“And we took it upon ourselves, only we weren’t sure how to… we were just doing a duty now.” Fíli clarified, taking a long puff of his pipe.

His younger brother grinned wryly. “Along with the teasing part.”

Bellana gave them an astonished stare. _They had been looking out for her in their own way._ A sense of guilt pooled in her heart along with a small amount of joy, that someone cared for her well being after all, and she started twiddling her fingers nervously.

Balin came and sat down on a tree stump beside them. “Ah, don’t take his words to heart lads and good mistress. Thorin’s hatred for orcs outlasts most.”

"Mr Balin," Bellana began hesitantly. _Don't let him get offended, please don't let him get offended._ "I always wondered about Azanulbizar, but I never heard the tale in full. Would, if you could please-"

The old, venerable dwarf smiled at her kindly. "Of course, Miss Baggins!" and began to tell the tale of the Battle of Azanulbizar. Of how the exiled dwarves of Erebor tried in vain to regain the ancient dwarven stronghold of Moria; only to find that legions of orcs had seized the area.

A long battle followed and how King Thror was brutally slain and his son, Thrain, vanished without a trace and how nearly they lost Thorin’s younger brother, Frerin. He recounted the desperate heroism of the brothers, how they lead the dwarves when all hope had been forsaken and how they drove the Orcs back into Moria.

“But there was no rejoicing, no songs that night. Our victory was earned at a bitter cost. For our dead were beyond count, grief and loss weighed heavily on our hearts. Our foe was defeated but not killed. And we all deeply felt the fear, fear about what was about to come. Fear for our survival.”

Bellana’s world came crashing down in the moment. _Thorin. Frerin. Brothers. They were brothers. That was how Fili and Kili were related to him. Her guardian was practically royalty. And he left her; that was why he left her._

It was too much to take in, but she would never allow herself to break down in front of so many. Emotions were wild horses; you must learn to rein them in.

“And then I saw them, two young dwarven princes who had suffered loss and death yet they put on a brave face for their people. And I thought to myself then. They are the ones I could serve. I would follow them to the end of the world, to my death even just as I followed King Thror and Thrain.” Balin’s voice was thick with emotion. The boisterous chatter around them gave way to silence, the Company being reminded of the grave importance of their quest and how much was on stake.

Her eyes unconsciously seek out the majestic dwarf, who was now sitting by a rock some distance away, only to find that his eyes were fixated on her too. She quickly dropped her gaze, a strange urge coming over her to burst out in a fit of hysteric giggles.

She got up from her spot, walking with leaden steps to the hillside away from the view of the dwarves. Taking in a deep breath, Bellana took out her pipe, twiddling it around in her hands. The cold air rushed about her, chilling her bones and numbing her skin but she did not care.

Questions which had haunted her for long, now burned with a fierce intensity in her mind.

_Why Ada? Why?_

Tears began to fall freely from her eyes; sobs broke out from her chest. She took deep, heaving breaths trying to contain herself but to no avail. It felt as if her heart was being shattered to shards once more. The emotions she had kept bottled up came crashing down. Bellana felt nothing but anguish and pain but she knew that she still loved _him_. After all these years, she had fiercely denied it to herself but love for her guardian, _her father_ thumped painfully in her heart.

_Why, oh why, did you leave me? I loved you father, you were my everything. Why would you forsake your own daughter?_

“Miss Baggins?” A quiet voice rumbled from behind her. In the next moment, she felt her numb body being wrapped up in warm fabric. A coat, her bleary eyes registered. _Thorin’s royal blue coat._

She blinked twice as the dwarf king sat down besides her, taking out his own pipe. How had she not heard his footfalls?

“You’ll catch your death out here in the cold.” He said in a very matter-of-factly tone.

She could not find words to answer him, feeling immensely grateful for the warmth of his fur coat that engulfed her form entirely and simultaneously wishing he would go away and leave her be.

The torrent of tears did not cease, Bellana covered her tear-streaked face by her hands; ashamed of her own weakness.

“Why are you here?” she choked out. “Please, _please_ go away! Leave me alone.” 

“I am sorry, Mistress.” Thorin said ever so gently. “My intent was not to intrude on you, but it is dangerous to be out here alone and unaccompanied.

To her immense surprise, the dwarf slid an arm around her gently. The shock of it managed to subdue her sobs for she couldn't remember being in this close proximity to anyone since her abandonment.

“Th-Thorin?” Bellana whispered uncertainly. 

His touch sent a shiver down her spine; it was a strange sensation but not an unpleasant one. Then her cheeks flared, of all the people _Thorin Oakenshield_ was seated near to her, watching her whimper like a fauntling.

“I won’t ask what it is that troubles you, little one. You can stay here if you wish, for a while, away from the company.” His deep voice was soft and gentle like his arm around her, and his startlingly blue eyes held certain tenderness, though she couldn’t fathom why. “We can be a rowdy bunch.” 

He paused for a moment, eyes widening with horror. “Bellana, you’re shivering!”

Despite the warmth of the coat, she keenly felt the chill of the night keenly and it only became worse at this remark. The hobbit was suddenly aware of the delicious heat radiating from the dwarf’s body, wanting him to wrap his strong arms around her and pull her to his chest like Frerin used to do. Thorin got up instead, leaving her cold and miserable once more as he made his way back to the camp.

Bellana tried to gather herself; she had let her guard down. It would never do to come off as vulnerable, weaker than the dwarves already considered her to be. But before she could even attempt to wipe her tear trails from her face, Thorin was back with blankets and few logs of firewood. He wrapped a thick blanket around her firmly and started a fire a little way off.

“Aren’t you cold?” she inquired, coughing due to a dry throat, rubbing her eyes and feeling immensely glad of the blanket. Even then she was aware of the fact that dwarves could endure heat and cold a lot better than hobbits could.

“No,” he answered shortly, but not in his usual snapping tone. He handed her a water skin, and proceeded to sink to ground beside her, keeping at a careful distance this time. The coat and the blanket kept her warm and protected against the breeze but it was not the same as the radiating warmth of Thorin’s body.

After quenching her thirst, she asked, astonished by her own daring. “Can I, uh, can I lean against you?” 

His stormy blue orbs gazed at her, evidently surprised by this tentative plea, and then Thorin’s strong arms enveloped around her petite form tugging her into his lap, and then close to his chest. Bellana placed her curly head in the crook of his neck, trying to imagine her guardian in his place. But Thorin’s scent was different, although it smelt enticing and very pleasantly so, but he was not Frerin.

To think she was on a quest lead by one of her childhood heroes, who happened to be her guardian’s brother! Being reminded of Frerin again, a great sob build up in her chest until Bellana could no longer suppress it. She buried her face in the royal blue fabric of Thorin's tunic and wept her heart out. Thorin pulled her even closer, cradling her head gently, threading his fingers through her thick curls and murmuring soft words of comfort in her pointed ears. And she cried and cried with desperate abandon in the protective safety of his arms, for she was a child again seeking comfort in arms of a dwarf she barely knew.

Bellana did not remember when sleep came over her; it happened while a final sob convulsed her body and dragged her into strange dreams. They revolved around a voice narrating brave ventures of dwarven kings who fought seemingly invincible foes and were always victorious in battlefield and her father walking around a stone hall in agitation. When she regained consciousness, she was in her bedroll placed near to Fíli and Kíli’s but Thorin was nowhere to be found.

........................................

“Thorin?” His nephew’s familiar voice whispered from behind, anxiety apparent behind every word. “What happened- is everything alright?”

It seemed ages while he had been perched on that turf, his legs smarted from being in a still position for so long. And yet Thorin couldn’t bring himself to move. His heart throbbed painfully, for his One was asleep in his arms. He feared waking her up, feared seeing tears forming again in those hazel eyes that had arrested his heart. He had wiped her face clean of moisture by his hand, with a gentleness he was not aware that he possessed and Bellana had finally settled in a peaceful slumber.

“Fí- Fíli,” Thorin’s voice trembled. “Help me get her up.” 

Fíli was evidently perplexed at finding his uncle and the hobbit in such position but he did not remark on it. Between them, the dwarrow managed to maneuver the hobbit so that Thorin was able to stand upright while still holding her secure in his arms. As they made their way back to the camp Thorin register that except for Balin on watch, everyone was thankfully asleep. Astonishment registered on Balin’s features but he also chose wisely not to comment.

Fíli stood uncertainly after they deposited the sleeping hobbit in her bedroll. “Come with me.” Thorin told him, tearing his eyes away from Bellana’s face and the redness that rimmed around her delicate eyelids.

His nephew followed him to a secluded grove, where Thorin sank to the ground once more, and took his face into his hands. 

“Uncle?” Fíli dropped to his knees, clasping Thorin’s arms with a firm hold. “Tell me what happened. Why was she crying?”

“I could not bring myself to ask.” Thorin did not meet his worried eyes, for Fíli was just as perceptive as him. He knew well enough that something was amiss. Fíli’s next question, however, threw the dwarf completely off mark

“Thorin, do you remember her?”

“What?” His reply was phrased more as an exclamation then as a question.

Fili’s face held a strange expression. “You remember her that’s why you went after her! She is Bilbo, _our Bilbo!_ ”

The exiled king gazed at blond in desperate bewilderment. _Who by Mahal’s name was Bilbo?_ “Inùdoy, I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

Fíli brows furrowed with disappointment. “But, how do you not remember her?” his voice was accusing. “No one remembers our namadith. Not even Dwalin, and he met her too!”

“Namadith… Your sister?” Suddenly everything clicked into place. “Frerin’s ward? No Fíli, surely, _surely_ not.” It was absurd, unthinkable. 

“How did you even make such a conclusion?” Thorin’s incredulous gaze fell on his nephew.

“Gandalf called her Bilbo many times, Thorin. And I have been observing her. She was shaken by hearing of Azanulbizar especially when Frerin’s name was mentioned-”

“Fíli, I know you and Kíli both were eager to see your sister again. But this is too much of a coincidence. She cannot be- no, I haven’t heard of something so unlikely”

“Why did you go there if you didn’t know she is Bilbo?” Fíli demanded, trying hard to not to yell at his uncle. Guilt welled up in Thorin’s heart, he had already snapped at his nephews once that day, he'd try be patient from now on. They had been fooling around, making light of Orc raids and teasing _his One_ ; but he was wrong to snap at them like that. He couldn't bear their subdued faces.

“I had to go there to comfort her. But I can’t tell you why, Fíli. Not now.” He said softly. “I shall tell you soon, Inùdoy. But now is not the time.” He still had to come on terms with this new revelation, these feelings that had appeared without warning and had an iron clasp on his heart. Thorin knew that Fíli would understand that. 

His nephew nodded wordlessly and took out his pipe and Thorin took out his own. They smoked late in the night in companionable silence, both thinking of the same hobbit and watching the moon and stars blaze above.

..........................................

The Company made it to Bree the next day, rather late in the evening and managed to acquire rooms in The Prancing Pony. Bellana had the privilege of having a separate room to herself while the dwarves shared four between them. Gandalf had left for 'prodding in ranger's business' but gave his word to join them when they would set out.

The dwarves let the hobbit sleep in for much of the next morning, most of them were out on business or in their rooms by the time she was up for breakfast.

Bellana only spared a minute to think how she was alone in a bustling inn and that it was not very safe for her to roam around alone and unescorted. Her stomach rumbled suddenly and thoughts of a hearty breakfast pilfered her mind. 

“Bother it all.” Bellana told herself, going to the counter. She paid for breakfast and was sinking her teeth in a buttered toast along with a mug of creamy milk, when a very distressed Bofur found her.

“We have been looking for you all over the place,” he admonished. “Lass, you should know better than to lounge about here alone.” He flopped down heavily on opposite chair, his ridiculous hat sat crooked on his head, a frown apparent on the dwarf's amiable face.

“Sorry, I guess.” She shrugged, offering him a cinnamon roll. “I was hungry.”

“No harm done,” the dwarf said and ate it in a crunch. “Just be sure to get hold of one of us next time. Wouldn’t want Thorin to know the burglar is set loose in a place like this.”

“I know how to protect myself,” Bellana said crossly, even as Bofur winked at her cheekily. “And surely Thorin has better things to do than worry after one hobbit who is not so much of a burglar. He makes it clear enough that I am useless anyway.” That was perhaps not so true after night before the last one, and Thorin's demeanor towards her had mellowed out considerably. But she had proved useless so far, no denying it and his thoughts about her were probably similar in this aspect.

“Ah, c’mon lass no need to be so glum in the morn. You paid for this?” Bofur glanced at her breakfast and suddenly was annoyed with her again. “Did ya read the contract? All expenses paid for, including breakfast.”

“Oh are you going to lecture me on finer points of the contract so early?” she groaned then brightened up. “I wanted to take a round in the town, and you can come with me to make up for the morning.”

“Excellent idea,” two voices piped up in perfect unison, none of them belonging to Bofur. Bellana blinked and looked up to see Fíli and Kíli standing causally by the table.

Fíli smiled brightly at her. “We’ll show you around, have to get some supplies.”

"Come on!" Kíli urged her, grinning.

Bofur shrugged and Bellana looked at him anxiously. He did not seem offended. 

“I’ll see ya around then lass,” he winked at her and left.

“Thorin knows we are going out right?” Bellana questioned the pair, as the trio made for the gigantic door of the inn. She didn't wanted to find herself at the receiving end of his scowl, again.

“Of course he does,” Fíli answered. “We always do this when we travel with him, have a stroll around the place, pick up supplies.” Kíli brandished a neatly done list from his pocket in her face and stowed it away again at Fíli's chiding look. 

"We are his sister-sons. He’s our mother’s elder brother. We traveled a lot with our uncles when we were younger." She had given the matter some thought, yet her mind refused to process what Balin had revealed yesterday night.

"How many siblings does your uncle have?"

"Three. Uncle Thorin, Frerin and our mother Dís," Fíli replied. He carefully scrutinized her face, for no reason at all. "It's quite a lucky number for Dwarrow. Our birth-rate is low and not many infant survive during birth. Our line was considered blessed once, because of that." The blond shook his head and looked away, sorrowfully. Bellana could not gather enough courage to ask him further about it and felt relieved when the brunet changed the subject.

“Do have anything in mind that you want to buy Miss Baggins?” Kíli asked as they headed out in a lane buzzing with activity.

“Well, not really," Bellana considered. "I think I'll to buy a hair clasp, though. Clearly ribbons aren’t up to controlling my hair after a day in the wild.” She tugged at her curls that were restrained with a strip of cloth; the ribbon was lost to the thunderstorm that blew two days ago.

“So braid it,” Kíli said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t know how to,” The hobbit blushed. “My father used to do it for me, I never learned it myself.”

“Oh,” Fíli exclaimed and then snickered fondly, tugging at his brother’s brown locks. “That’s not surprising. Kíli never learnt either; he has got us all to do it for him.”

“Hey! I know how to do a simple braid!” Kíli protested, shoving back his brother’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah knucklehead.” This light-hearted bickering was a rare sight for the hobbit to observe but heart-warming really. 

Bellana could not even pretend to understand the dwarven siblings dynamics and how closely each of the family was knitted together. If any of her cousins ever teased her as Nori teased Ori or Fíli Kíli pulled each other's legs or how Bofur messed with every single being, there would have been a war in Hobbiton's undulating fields.

She used to manage her life with minimum contact with outsiders, having isolated herself from any familial affection. Bellana dutifully filled in the role of the young mistress of Bag End, doing what was expected of her and curbing her Tookish side. There had been many potential suitors at her thirtieth birthday, there still were many but she never once encouraged their suite. She feared pain, rejection, loss and separation and had begun to fear and doubt love too. The only way to avoid it was by deciding never to step on that path. 

“Come on, Miss Baggins.” Kíli said, playfully slinging his arm through and _oh it hurt so much to be with them, to see **him** in them._

“You actually said Baggins twice now, Kíli.” She tried out a smile, it was not difficult. It was the smile she spent years in perfecting, the face she wore out in marketplace or when other hobbits dropped by her smial.

“Sorry, Miss Boggins. I must still be fuzzy from sleep.” The brunet grinned impishly, and Fíli pinched his ear.

“Stop teasing her, nadadith” he scolded. The blond turned towards Bellana and said. “Do tell me if anyone is being too much for you. We can be an overwhelming bunch sometimes, without intending too.”

“So I have been told," she replied, dryly. The trio had arrived at the smithy. “I don’t mind really. I think I'm getting used to your dwarvish ways ."

“See Fee? I told ya she likes me!” Kíli gave her an exaggerated wink. “You don’t mind being around with me do you, Miss Boggins? I can teach you to shoot arrows better than any tree-shagging elf.”

“Not at all,” this time her smile was true. “And you know you can call me Bellana, Bella, whatever you like. I have already taken liberty of calling you by your names but then calling everyone ‘Master dwarf’ in company of thirteen dwarrow can get a tad confusing.”

“Quite sensible, you are Miss Boggins.” Kíli grinned and let go of her arm. “I need a sharpening stone, forgot mine on those hills. Wait for me, would just take a second.” He sauntered inside the blackened doorway of the smithy.

Fíli observed her quietly. “I heard Gandalf call you Bilbo a few times.” There was strange note to his voice.

Bellana gawked at him, stuttering. “Well-yes, uh. That’s not really my name.” She flushed, averting her eyes.

He clasped her hand gently. "Look at me." Surprised, the hobbit hesitantly glanced at his face. Even with the penetrating blue shade of his irises, identical to Thorin's she realized just then, Fíli held an uncanny resemblance to Frerin.

“You were shaken that night Bellana.” _No, no, no. She wasn’t ready for this, she did not want to talk about it._

“It was nothing, really.” She smiled again, but it was a forced thing.

“None of that,” Fíli chided gently. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Something flickered in the back of her mind, a strange sense of recognition. _She knew him somehow,_

Her voice was high-pitched as she replied, she wanted to scream at him. “Why don’t we go ahead and look around a bit while Kíli is in there? I can buy myself a hair clasp, and we can go back sooner too.”

“Oh he’ll be back in a jiffy.” Fíli replied, his voice neutral, tapping his foot and watching the crowd intently now. “Do you have any brothers Miss Baggins?”

“No.”

“Cousins then? Aunts or uncles?”

“Plenty of cousins and other relatives.” Her breathing relaxed as he changed the topic. “Everyone’s related to everyone else in the Shire.”

“Did they gave you permission to leave? Do we need to worry about other relatives like that hobbit at the borders?” Fíli’s expression too, relaxed into a smile. Bellana knew they would have to talk about that night later, somehow he was aware of her connection to Frerin. But the time was not right, _yet._

“Oh, no.” Fíli beckoned her towards a bench which an elderly couple had just got up from. “I did not ask anyone for permission, I live on my own, see? So no one will be coming after me.”

“You make it sound as if they don't care.” he inquired, frowning, and shook his head; blond braids flicking in the wind. “Sorry mistress. None of my business.”

“It’s fine, really. I don't mind.” the hobbit shrugged. “Well see, I am a half-Took and have been living on my own for many years whereas a respectable lass would have moved in with her immediate family or married after her coming-of-age. So I am a trifle bit odd, see? My early years were strange too. I was brought up by my mother's friends, Gandalf and the rangers. Some say I have bad luck following me round, parents dead, won’t live with her family, guardian abandoned- ” 

Bellana froze, her mouth falling wordlessly open.

Fíli hesitated, and Kíli sauntered out of the shop, before his brother could say anything.

They took a small round of Bree, purchasing items that Balin had provided for in the list and Bellana bought herself a hair clasp, while Kíli muttered, ‘I could make a better one.’ as he critically observed its craftsmanship. Fíli did not speak to her again, though he continued to observe the hobbit in silence and seemed to be lost in deep thoughts. Not much had changed by time in Bree; it still remained a bustling town with Big Folk and Little Folk living peacefully together.

.......................................

Thorin Oakenshield, the uncrowned King of Erebor, stared gloomily at the hobbit’s retreating figure. His nephews were already in her good books, by the looks of it. Bellana turned around to bid Bofur a hasty good bye and thanks for his company. She did not notice Thorin sitting in silence by the fire and taking this rare opportunity to gaze at her without interruption.

Her honey curls danced with every step she took, straining out of the strip of fabric that held them back halfway and loose strands cascaded downwards just below the swell of soft curves visible from her tunic. The dwarf had been surprised to see her in travel garb, thinking that she had never been out of her home before. The wizard had informed him so, yet Thorin did not believed him at first that the hobbit was more accustomed with ways of the wild then he had expected.

_He was not thinking about her._

Bellana appeared a lot better than the night before; her cheeks were rosy with color, the paleness he had seen and anguished over had vanished from her face. That wretched, _wretched_ night. He had perceived the pain and dullness in her eyes and it gnawed away at his heart. Whatever it was that had been troubling her, filled him with irrational anxiety. Thorin wanted to know why was she crying but how could he ask her about that? They had nothing between them, no relation save for being mere companions on a quest. He could have asked her as the leader, but that would be too cold and too much of a formal inquiry without any real concern.

_The Quest, dimwit. You can't risk your attention elsewhere._

Fíli knew something about her, of that Thorin was sure off. His nephews had been the first to get up and make for where Bellana had disappeared to. He had stopped them in their tracks, and gone himself.

_Stop, just stop it!_

Last night when he tucked her in his arms, she had not been in correct state of mind. Yet Thorin could not help but think of how her comely figure molded around his chest, so tiny and delicate compared to bulk of a dwarf, and how she had seemingly calmed down in the safety of his presence. An intense desire had arrested him then, that even now continued to overwhelm and scare him.

Thorin had desperately wanted to kiss her, kiss her fetching hazel eyes behind her thick, drooping lashes and kiss away the pearly tears that fell from them. He had wanted to kiss her forehead to comfort her, kiss her honey curls and bury his nose in them, and the apple of her cheeks to relieve her of that immense pain.

And he had passionately yearned to claim her soft lips and let her know of how madly he was in love with her, how much he was grieved by her pain and how much he desired her.

But Bellana was not his to claim. Maybe Thorin would have attempted at any other time to let her know of his feelings, but he wouldn't, _couldn't_ do it so when he knew she was grieving. Thorin could and would never take advantage of anyone in such a position. She was hurt, and he let her take whatever comfort she could from him and Thorin felt he was a better dwarf for that.

_Enough thinking about her. She is not yours, nor will she ever be._

Bellana laughed at some remark of his younger nephew and his heart was filled with sudden warmth. He loved her, _Mahal he loved her_ , and was utterly helpless in face of her pain or that sunlit smile. 

_And now he was thinking about her again._

“Why is yer bloody mood off?” Dwalin demanded with a violent shove, appearing out of nowhere, and glowering at his cousin. “Have ya forgotten how ter smile or were ya born with that hideous face?”

“And what is your problem with my mood?” Thorin groaned, still staring at the door from where his nephews had escorted the hobbit outside. “Don’t you have better things to do in the morning than bothering me?”

“I'm sick o' seeing yer mopey expression. Gives meself headache.” Dwalin said after he ordered two mugs of ale. He then turned once more to stare daggers at his cousin. “Why’re ya great beast holding a grudge against the wee lass?”

The dwarf king looked at his brother-in-arms, incredulous. It was the only adequate response to such an absurd question.

“Ya heard me!”

Thorin frowned. “I am not holding a grudge against anyone.”

“Then why do ya always act snappy around her, as if poor lass have offended ya? Not her bloody fault that she has the bad luck o' being yer One.”

“Can you keep it down? There’s an tree-shagger in that wretched and thrice-damned forest that did not hear that!”

“Now, when she returns.” Dwalin jabbed a gnarled finger towards him, after gulping down his ale. “Be polite ter her for once.”

“You are the last person on Arda who I’ll turn for relationship advice,” Thorin muttered. _He was a king for Maker's sake!_ He didn’t need his cousins badgering him about that wretched burglar. Balin had given him a thorough lecture in the morning about the same thing.

“Who else would ya turn to?” Dwalin grinned. “Yer nephews?”

Thorin got up from the table, roughly pushing back the chair and resisting the urge to break it over the warrior's smug face before he stamped away.

“Go brood over it in a corner.” Dwalin called after him. “But if yer still an emotionally constipated rude ol’ wanky by noon, I’ll have a thing or two to say ‘bout that.”

...........................................

Bellana excused herself from Fíli and Kíli, flustered, and very much wanting to go back to her bed when she found herself facing Thorin Oakenshield himself. She took a fleeting glance at his face; he did not seem to be stern and intimidating as usual. 

She had been avoiding him on purpose all the time, mortified now by memories of that night and how she had broken down in front of him. Frerin’s brother or not, he was the leader. He should have sent her packing by all means, but he hadn’t.

Thorin had no idea how grateful she was for that.

“Miss Baggins,” Thorin nodded at her. “I hope you have the supplies you need?” She held herself hunched, as if she expected a rebuff at any moment. He frowned at this, _was she afraid of him?_

“Why yes, Master Oakenshield,” the words tumbled from her mouth and she looked down, flushing. She forced herself to stare right into his eyes. 

Despite being Frerin's brother, Thorin was so utterly different from him that Bellana would never have figured that out if Balin hadn't told her in plain words. But now that she gave the matter some thought, he was similar to her guardian in some aspects. They had the same facial structure, the same angular chiseled nose. oth had a strong code of honor and uncompromising values. An aura of regalness surrounded him, Thorin stood out among their companions with natural authority and strength, one who could drawing attention and respect without trying. It had been so with Frerin, though she had not figured it out before.

“You can consult anyone of us if you need to, and I hope if you are in need anything at all, well, you can always come to me.” Thorin said awkwardly, his jaw tightening in the way Frerin's would do, when he felt nervous or anxious.

Bellana wished he would stop now and lapse back into silence, for it was getting more than slightly awkward now and she was afraid of offending him by saying anything. Thorin reached to tuck a stray curl behind her ear that had escaped her hair clasp.

“Good day,” she mumbled and went off her way. Bellana did not see the pain and longing, blatant only for a split second on his features before the dwarf turned away.

........................................

_“I told you to stay back!” He practically roared, and the others all paused in their tracks. She had not seen Frerin this enraged…ever._

_The tween paled, and stumbled into his arms. She felt frightened of the wild expression on her father’s face; this was not the dwarf she knew so well. “A warg…it-it was going for you and–”_

_“You shouldn’t have risked that child! I could have handled it! Why do you never listen when your life could be at stake?”_

_“Ada…please…”_

_“Frerin!” Fíli’s voice cut through his uncle’s rage and apparent worry, like ice cutting through fire. “Bilbo's injured! We have to get her back to the rangers before she bleeds too much.”_

_Frerin blinked slowly, pulling his arms away from Bellana’s shoulders to gape in horror at the sight of blood coating his left hand. She had been injured by the skirmish at the border, how had he not seen it?_

_“Bilbo, oh no, no…!” His expression was a mixture of disbelief and shock. His child was injured, why had not Mahal struck him dead by now? He had failed her, failed his heart and soul._

_“It hurts, Ada, it hurts so much!” Bellana whimpered faintly, her head spinning due to the throbbing in her right shoulder. Tears of pain kept formed in her eyes, and Frerin's heart broke further._

_He then appeared to gather his wits, jaw set and said with a determined look in his dark eyes. “Fíli take her and run, I’ll hold them off for now. I’ll make them pay for landing their hands on my family.” Frerin's voice trembled with intensity of his emotions, the inner turmoil he faced for leading them in danger, and the passionate rage surging in every tendril of his body._

_“But-” Something lunged from behind from them, making straight for the hobbit. Bellana screamed. Her guardian leapt forwards, killing the vile beast in one swift motion._

_“Fíli, you have to take her and go! She is attracting them, you two are in danger! Do as I say!”_

_Fíli’s blue eyes were troubled as he picked up his sister. Bellana struggled in her brother's hold, torn between fear and pain but not wanting to leave her father._

_“Bilbo,” Frerin kissed her forehead tenderly. “Be a good girl now, go with your brother. Have courage. I’ll be back alright, kurduluh?”_

_She cried out, pain fogging her hazel eyes. “But it’s not safe. They’ll kill you!” His daughter was standing on the brink of unconsciousness and it only managed to fuel his feelings of vengeance._

_Frerin tried to keep his voice normal. “I’ll be fine. I'll come back that's my promise to you, love. Just go now.” It fooled no one. ___

_But Fíli nodded quickly in understanding and said “Uncle, stay safe!”_

_And with that they were gone. Frerin turned around, joining the rangers. The orcs would regret this day; he’d make sure of it._

.....................................

The Crown Prince under The Mountain and Ered Luin paced around the room, fists clenched, trying to get that horrid recollection out of his mind. He had seen many things in his life, had faced loss and death and still emerged out as the victor. But never had something so haunted him then that memory and devastating events it brought upon them.

“Frerin!” Dís shrieked as she saw her brother. His skin was pale, his hair unkempt, his eyes gaunt and dulll. “You unfeeling idiot, where the hell have you been? I have been worrying sick!”

His dark eyes were troubled. “My men have been scouring the land. I received troubling news and had to confirm it.” The blond took his head in his palms. “Orcs, they have been gathering.”

“Orcs are always gathering! That is no excuse for you to disappear for days without informing me first. For all I knew you might have been-“

“I know, I know and I’m sorry!”

“You don’t get it do you, idiot?” She threw a punch at him. Dís was never this much vocal, but the absence of her elder brother and her sons was evidently taking a toll on her. “You don’t care if you die out there, leaving me here alone without a backward glance.”

He wrapped his hands around his sister, kissing her forehead apologetically. "Come on now. Don't be so melodramatic. If I die, I'll find some way to come back and scare the living daylight out of you all." He grinned at his sister, willing to cheer her up.

Dís slapped his head viciously before returning his embrace. “You are all I have left now, Frerin. Don’t leave me. Thorin and my sons, they are gone. I might never see them again.”

“Don’t!” Frerin countered fiercely. “Don’t say that. They’ll survive and we’ll meet them in triumph. They have to.” It now seemed to his sister, that he was saying these things to himself.

“Tell me what you found.” The dwarrowdam pushed him back, her strength rivaling his.

“Namadith, don’t force me. It is ill news I have heard.”

“Frerin,” she whispered quietly. Who knew what her brother had heard and how he was coping with it. “Is it something about father?”

“No, Dís.” He sighed wearily then shuddered. “It is about an old enemy of us.” She shot him a sharp glance.

“Azog,” his voice trembled. “Somehow, he got the whiff of the quest. I knew it would happen eventually, but it looks as if he had been preparing for us to show our face outside.”

“It cannot be,” Dís said in a shocked whisper. Her fists clenched.

Frerin closed his eyes before saying. “He knows that Durin line is out there, travelling in the wilderness; vulnerable. He is hunting us again.”

As Dís turned her benumbed glance towards him, Frerin did not have the heart to tell her that situation was worse. _Much worse._

For not only Azog, but his equally vicious son Bolg were assigned that task. To finish the line of Durin. And they were already trailing the dwarves. The Company was in grave danger.

“I have to do something!” he said, tapping his foot and rushed towards his desk. He had a letter to write and another long overdue one to send.

His sister wrinkled her nose and sighed. "Just be sure to wash up when you finish. Gelek menu caragu rukhs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul  
> -Namadith- Younger sister  
> -Nadadith- Younger brother  
> -Kurduluh - My heart  
> -Inùdoy – son  
> -Gelek menu caragu rukhs - You smell like Orc dung


	6. Perils On Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which few hidden secrets are revealed, friendships are forged and Bellana's Tookish side rears it's foolish head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School's reopened guys! Updates will be slow from now on. This chapter is unbetaed and if it doesn't get posted now, it will never do so. So kindly bear with me and my mistakes! And do give me your feedback, lovely readers :)

_See the Road flow past your doorstep_  
_Calling for your feet to stray_  
_Like a deep and rolling river_  
_It will sweep them far away_

_Just beyond the far horizon_  
_Lies a waiting world unknown_  
_Like the dawn its beauty beckons_  
_With a wonder all its own_

Dawn was breaking, gold and pink beams threading through the pale blue sky as the sun showed her radiant face from behind the horizon. Coupled with the lush landscape before her, the view it made was breath-taking. 

With dewy grass blades tickling her bare feet and gusts of breeze ruffling her curls, Bellana crunched another bite of her ripened apple and gazed contentedly over the undulating hills and gently sloping valleys in the just-rising sun. The wilderness, she decided, was not just exciting or terrifying; it was also beautiful beyond imagination. 

“Oh, isn’t it simply a lovely sight, Dori?”

The Dwarf was engrossed in mending a tear at the hem of Nori’s cloak, and inclined his head politely in agreement. 

“Gandalf was right. The world is not in my books and maps, and yet all I spend all these years with my nose buried in them.” Her eyes watched a pair of squirrels dart up a tree. “Never once did I think of stepping out of my door.”

Bellana had been up at and watched many a sunrise take place in Hobbiton but out in the wild the view seemed somehow even more special. She had found out that reading a written word and experiencing something first hand was refreshingly different, and this was the great wilderness which the Hobbits of the Shire wouldn’t dare to cross in this age.

Yet here she was, a mere Hobbit in the company of Dwarrow. On an adventure in the wild.

“As you say Mistress.” Dori smiled kindly albeit slightly confused (they were both discussing about embroidery a moment ago) and continued with the task at hand. 

The Hobbit was up and about, surprisingly, before any other of the Company stirred. Dori was keep lookout and she had treaded softly between the sprawled figures to join him; a little way from the slumbering Dwarrow. It had definitely been worth to wake up, if only to experience the wondrous sunrise out in the wild and Dori kept her fine company with his polite, pleasant words.

A hand snaked into her field of view suddenly, and snatched away the apple from between her fingers and Dori groaned as he made a wrong darn.

"Hey!" Bellana protested, as Kíli tossed the ripened fruit in the air with a wide grin before returning it to her.

“Up already Miss?” The brunet said, teasingly. “It’s easier to rouse Óin here than you.” Óin with his damaged hearing could sleep through a cloudburst or so his younger brother claimed.

She sighed exasperatedly. “It’s far too early for you to be poking fun at me.”

Kíli chuckled at her childish pout and mimicked her tone. “And it’s too early for you to be eating something.” Bellana giggled at his exaggerated imitation of her higher pitched tone and even Dori’s lips quirked though he scolded them both for making so much noise.

“I’m a Hobbit,” She scoffed, giving him a gentle shove. “We can eat anytime, that is if we have something edible in our hands.”

“Better set up a guard on our food rations then, hadn’t we Dori?” 

“Don’t tease her,” The silver haired Dwarf clucked disapprovingly as his thick but surprisingly deft fingers quickly finished the mending. Bellana gave the Kíli a small smile, feeling too sleepy all of a sudden to think of a response.

“I think I’ll lie in for a bit, we still have a couple of half-hours before-” She began saying but Dori interrupted her.

“Better to stay awake, young Miss, now that you’re up.” He told her, shuffling to his feet. “I myself am going to stretch my limbs now.”

“And you,” Dori shot a glance at Kíli . “-keep your eyes open and ears sharp. We all might as well keep a look out, now that we’re up.”

Bellana twirled one of her curl. “I guess he’s right. I’ll never to open my eyes if I doze off now.”

Kíli hummed in agreement and they sat together on a broken bit of boulder, watching the sky as the sun steadily rose higher. 

“You voice is really lovely, you know.” The brunet told her at one point and her cheeks pinked with pleasure and embarrassment both. “I woke up because Fíli kicked me in his sleep and was about to close my eyes when I heard you.”

“I’m sorry, then.” Bellana replied and quickly clarified at his confused glance. “For waking you up, partly.”

“Oh no.” He laughed gaily. “It was a nice song, reminded me of how Ma would sing in the morning. I would like to hear you sing again.” Bellana ducked her head downwards, flushing a beetroot red, and was very grateful when Kíli didn’t persist.

“Do you have any weapon about you, Miss?” The Dwarf inquired offhandedly then, his fingers playing with the blades of grass.

She plucked a wild daisy from a cluster and after checking it for any insects, the Hobbit placed it behind her ear. “Bellana, and yes of course I do.” Stepping out in the wild, unarmed and defenseless? What an absurd notion!

 _“Always keep a weapon about you.”_ Aragorn had said to her after instructing her how to use long range knives. _“You never know when you’re going to need it.’_

Her face suddenly fell. “But I have been out of practice for so long, I don’t think I’d remember how to, how to-”

“How to fight?” Kíli finished for her and Bellana nodded anxiously, wringing her hands.

An eager grin lit up on the Kíli’s face and he sat straighter on the turf of grass. “There’s an easy solution to that. We could teach you!” 

“You would do that? But I don’t want to be a bother and-”

“Miss Baggins, if you were a bother; I wouldn’t have volunteered.” Kíli said firmly, making sure to catch her eye. A furrow appeared in his brows. “You’re a part of our company, and we’re supposed to help each other out. You should be able to defend yourself. That, and I have absolutely no trouble with teaching you.”

Bellana gazed at him wordlessly, blatant surprise showing up on her face. Kíli chuckled and was up on his feet in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.

“Take out your weapons Miss and we’ll practice by that big elm.” The Dwarf pointed over to a clearing, where the soft gurgling sound of a spring could be heard faintly. “The ground is flatter there and trees are less dense.”

Her smile growing impossibly wide, Bellana withdrew her blade from its intricately ornamented scabbard where it hung from the belt of her tunic. A shiver of excitement surged inside her for she had always been keen on fighting lessons as a child and was eager to polish up her skills. 

“So, when are you going to start calling me by my name?” Bellana inquired nonchalantly as the two strolled towards the clearing.

It felt so reserved and cold, something as simple as not being on first name terms, but the Dwarrow still insisted called her ‘Miss Baggins’ or simply ‘Miss Hobbit” or even ‘The Burglar’ (particularly in case of one Dwarven king used that title, as if she was no better than baggage!).

In the Shire, everyone knew everyone else either familial relation, however distant, or friendships and mutual friendships so forth. No one ever called her ‘Mistress Baggins’ except for the occasional Man or Dwarf she met using the paths through the Shire or the Rangers posted at the borders. Most Hobbits never bothered using formalities.

And she had done absolutely nothing to earn the disreputable title of ‘Burglar’ thank you very much; save for nicking Farmer Maggots’ mushrooms as a faunt or the incident with Gandalf’s staff that would never be repeated.

“I don’t know,” Kíli replied, cheerfully. “Probably when the time is right.” 

They both washed their faces in the clear and sensationally cooling water of the spring before Bellana handed Kíli her dagger and drew out another blade from a cleverly concealed pocket.

She mumbled. “I wonder when that will be. Oh, and I have a pair hunting knives in my pack too, will show you later on-” 

Her breathing stilled and she froze mid-step, watching the Dwarf scrutinize her weapons wordlessly, his keen eyes moving across her dagger. The one Frerin had given her.

Kíli glanced at her then, something strange flickering in the depth of his dark irises.

“Come on, then.” The brunet said, his voice warm and deep, losing none of the initial enthusiasm at the prospect of teaching her. But there was the slightest hint of tenderness to his tone, something she had quite failed to detect earlier.

..................................................

 

“After the downpour in last few days, we could do with some better weather, don't you think? It's still looks rather gloomy,” Balin remarked as Thorin ventured out of the camp and drew neart to the brook. 

The King glanced upwards at his cousin’s words. Although the day dawned clear, the sky had gone a pallid grey with clouds hanging low and dense and the wind rising in strength.

“Aye, it would do us good to set out early.” Thorin replied, pulling the sturdy vambraces on his arms. “I was contemplating to let Fíli take the charge for today and put his abilities as a leader to test.”

The other Dwarf nodded approvingly. “Aye, Mahal knows that it would do you good to relax for a while. You shoulder many burdens, _Uzbadê._ Fíli would no doubt be willing enough; it’s our younger lad who we need to think off though.” 

Thorin’s face lit up with a rare smile as he recalled of the antics of his younger sister-son in retaliation when the last time Fíli had been given a task of responsibility or reached some milestone before him.

“And how is our Hobbit coping up with the traveling?” The King stiffened at Balin’s causal inquiry. 

He replied shortly. “I never asked.” And Thorin stoically ignored the other Dwarf, as Balin raised his thick brows disbelievingly and set about the task of filling the water-skins from the brook, humming an annoying tune the whole time.

Thorin had never seen someone so slow to wake as the Hobbit (the burglar part had quickly became something of a private joke between the Company Dwarrow, for they had never seen someone less likely to steal something). She did her best, though, or tried to by helping to strike the camp, finishing up her breakfast quickly and quietly and mounted on Myrtle to be ready to leave when Thorin called. 

He could tell by how she sat up on her bedroll and gripped her mug of tea though, that all she wanted to do was stretch her limbs and sip the hot beverage until she was fully in the waking world. 

“Fíli gave her report,” Thorin carefully chose his words. “She is getting accustomed to travel and is somewhat good at survival skills. I thought we should train her to defend herself and my nephews volunteered.”

“Ah, yes. Your nephews have been looking out for her, as I observed.” Balin’s coal-black eyes peered at him shrewdly.

Fíli and Kíli had taken Miss Baggins under their wing in matter of days. It pleased Thorin to no end and made a flare of irrational envy appear in his heart at the same time, for his nephews succeeded in befriending the Hobbit before he himself could do so.

It began with Kíli wanting to coddle someone younger than him. Thorin was reminded of the time he had adopted a wee pup for that purpose (and the ensuing chaos).

The duo had undertaken the duty of rousing the Hobbit to consciousness before she attracted his wrath (in Dwalin’s words and Thorin hands had itched to throttle his cousin) and they kept an eye out for her during the days of constant travelling.

Other Dwarrow had slowly begun to warm up to her, but most still kept her at a polite distance as was proper. Bellana Baggins was the only female in the Company and it was the Dwarrow’s duty to ensure that she was treated with utmost respect.

Miss Baggins shared similar interests with Dori; brewing tea, embroidery and a fondness for etiquette. Following his elder brother’s lead, Ori too kept her company from time to time. 

Bofur told jokes, played merry tunes and always had a funny story up his sleeve. He could draw out a smile from the Hobbit when she seemed in low spirits and also attempted to tease and scare her at every given opportunity. Bombur and Miss Baggins happily conversed about food and swapped many recipes (and made everyone else feel constant pangs of hunger). Óin and Glóin often asked for her opinion on matters they would spend ages bickering over, for she seen as a neutral ground on such disputes.

But even though the Hobbit was making her place slowly in the Company, Thorin felt a pang of some strange emotion overwhelm him whenever he caught sight of her.

_She simply did not belong._

Not with wandering Dwarves on a seemingly doomed mission. Not here out in the terrible wilderness, which would seek to destroy the vulnerable and gentle folk of her race.

Miss Baggins, as Fíli reported, was nothing if not stubborn and determined yet she wearied out more quickly than Dwarves. Saddle-sores and a definite lack of food did not help in addition to sleeping on the rough floor instead of her soft feather beds back in her home.

Thorin had heard words of complain from her mouth sometimes especially if she was with Tharkun. She would mutter under her breath and at times even glared at him when he gave out orders and entrusted the duties. But despite that, the Hobbit got up and did whatever was asked of her before sagging to the ground again and such grumbles were never voiced out loud.

Thorin had ordered her once to rest when she tried to help Bifur in collecting firewood and a flicker of proud, angry hurt crossed her face before guilty relief took hold.

He could not help but admire her for from the depths of his heart, forgoing all his personal misgivings. 

Of all the Dwarrow who could and _should_ have joined his cause, only twelve stepped forward to be recruited for the Quest; most of them _family_. The rest had given dodgy responses or refused pointblank. Some remained traumatized from what they lived through their long lives, some too weary of merely enduring and toiling, while others were burdened by the anxieties rooting from living in the world of Men and among strange folks.

Most of those Dwarrow Thorin approached, those in power and with numbers at their command, refused to face the dragon for _his mountain_. Some had even ridiculed him and called his line accursed for drawing a Dragon’s wrath. Even his cousin, Dáin Ironfoot, advised him to reconsider the Quest and when the exiled King still remained unyielding, he rejected too.

Thorin could still feel the raging fury and resentment that coursed through his veins when the majority of his kin turned him down.

When so many Dwarrow turned away this peaceful, comfort-loving halfling volunteered. A Hobbit, who had no reason as far as he could see, to aid them. 

Thorin failed to understand her motivation for joining the quest. Her home was large, spacious, comfortably furnished and warm. She was clearly not in need of wealth, so she didn’t sought gold and riches.

Her status would be elevated if the Quest was successful. But what would that status mean for a Hobbit, who resided in other corner of Arda from Erebor?

Bellana Baggins didn’t look the type to spontaneously go on an adventure and maybe Gandalf had bewitched her into joining for the she had clearly been reluctant at first. 

But what did the Tharkun see in her anyway? She was not-a-burglar.

But then, there was the grief in her eyes that he’d been privy to for one night; maybe something happened in past and she had wanted to get away from her pain? 

Or maybe joining them was meant that she was suicidal? 

No, there were better and much quicker ways to end one’s life and his One could never be so much of a coward as to end her own life which Yavanna had blessed her with.

And there it was, the undeniable reality that made him feel broken and yet alive, joyful and yet distressed, in throbbing ache yet in _so_ much love. Thorin had never known that he could possess that emotion for someone other than his family, yet here she was, a mere Hobbit who had defied him and forged her name in his heart without any effort.

Bellana Baggins was his One, the other half of his soul. Thorin still couldn’t comprehend how it was even remotely possible, for how-

Balin’s voice captured his attention once more, cutting through his musings like a knife. “Despite our initial thoughts, I don’t think Miss Baggins will slow us down. She has gained a bit of endurance, and takes instructions well if given out _patiently._ ”

Thorin appeared not to listen to the jibe directed at him. Balin and Dwalin were gaining far too much enjoyment at his expense out of this whole business.

He had tried to be kind towards her even if in not many words; instructing Óin to give her salve for aching limbs after a day of hard riding, having a word with Bombur about her meals, giving his nephews or Bofur a nudge and a pointed stare when she seemed down in dumps. He had even tried to include her in the duties so Miss Baggins would not feel left-out without ever assigning her a taxing one.

Balin continued, his tone taking on a disapproving note. “If only now you would stop glaring at her and hauling her over coals at every given opportunity and start to accept that she is your One-” 

“I have a quest to lead and a mountain to retake and I don’t haul her over the coals!” Thorin snapped. He was not feeling _guilty._

Every time he saw the Hobbit weary and her obvious discomfort, his temper flared up at himself and the damned Wizard for leading her out in the wild. 

This anger combined with worry would then become directed at her, for being so foolish and leaving her home and he would reproach the Hobbit without thinking. 

And her expression would crumble before his very eyes. 

“Hey, that was uncalled for! Just because I don’t carry around hulking battle-axes larger than myself, doesn’t mean I don’t have any blade on me!”

That was quite evidently the voice of his One, echoing from some distance. Yelling. _Yelling?_

Balin turned to face Thorin with his eyes bulging comically, the water-skin falling from his fingers and Thorin himself felt astonishment rising within him.

“Alright, alright ya little thing.” They heard Dwalin’s gruff voice reverberating. “Let me see what ya got.”

Kíli’s voice came around just then, protesting and indignant. “Hey, I was teaching her first! You’re disturbing us!”

Balin exchanged a significant look with the King and together they headed towards the direction of the clearing where the voices resounded from.

..................................................

When Thorin and Balin arrived in the clearing, they saw the tiny form of the female Hobbit, a very annoyed Kíli along with Dwalin’s massive figure; seated side by side on the grassy woodland floor.

“Uncle!” Kíli said as soon as his keen eyes spotted them. “I was teaching Miss Baggins here some fighting techniques but Dwalin interrupted the lesson before we could make any progress!”

“It’s alright, Kíli.” Mis Baggins said in somewhat reassuring tone, her gaze fixed firmly on her twiddling hands but Thorin could perceive her distressed expression through her efforts to conceal it. 

Dwalin sharp, assessing eyes were examining some blades and he threw one of them towards Thorin without looking. “Quite a collection she’s got there.” There was genuine admiration in his brother-in-arms gruff voice.

Thorin’s well developed reflexes allowed him to catch the weapon with unerring deftness and he turned the blade in his hands to assess it critically. “Man-made but quite fine metalwork, Miss Baggins. This is a good blade.” 

“I didn’t know Hobbits used weapons?” Balin shot her a questioning glance. “They seem to be a quiet and peace-loving race.”

“Oh well, you won’t find a respectable Hobbit handling anything more exciting than a bread knife or a fire-poker.” She replied mildly, taking back her dagger and proceeded to display her hunting knives. Her knitted brows and the slightest hitch in her soft, sweet voice concerned Thorin, or was he imagining it? 

Her eyes still did not once glance at the either of Dwarrow and he so badly wanted to see their leaf brown irises.

 _Look up. Look up at me._

“But I am a half-Took and Tooks are usually more adventurous than average hobbits. And you wouldn’t think that I’d be foolish enough to step out in the wild without anything to defend myself?”

There’s a telling silence and when Miss Baggins finally looked up, Balin is staring thoughtfully at the sky, Thorin has his eyes fixed on the blade in his hands even though he wanted nothing more than to hold her gaze and Dwalin is thinking of various strategies in which the elm tree could be used as possible defense against imaginary foes.

Miss Baggins huffed and shifted uncomfortably, that’s when Thorin spotted a concealed dagger behind her.

“Can I see that?” Her head snapped up at this inquiry and she flinched, before glancing at Thorin nervously.

“Uh, alright then.” Bellana replied, reluctance and uncertainty evident in her voice and on her face as she handed him the dagger.

 _Why are you always so hesitant around me?_ The King thought glumly even as he held the dagger. His One’s fingers brush lightly with Thorin’s hand and it was even harder to fight the urge to take her petite form in his arms.

The Dwarf peered at the dagger in his hand to distract himself from such thoughts. He stared at it. Thorin looked up and gazed at Miss Baggins and registered her fearful expression as well as Kíli's suddenly anxious eyes. And his eyes dropped down and he fixated his gaze at the dagger again. And then he stared at it some more. 

Then suddenly something clicked in his mind and Thorin’s eyes widened with recognition and disbelief.

“It cannot be...” The words escape his lips even as the Dwarf snapped his eyes shut and opened them again to gawk at the weapon in his hand.

His head snapped up like a whip. Thorin could feel a headache coming on from mere shock. For he had recognized the blade, almost instantly. He knew this craftsmanship, the intricate design on the hilt and the runes on the gleaming blade. He knew this blade as if it were crafted with his own hands.

“What is it laddie?” Balin inquired with a frown and Dwalin too, glanced at him in confusion. But Kíli’s face is distressed and knowing and Miss Baggins had paled considerably

“The twin to Fíli’s main dagger,” Thorin choked out. “Forged by Frerin's hands.”

Balin’s frown turned an expression of incredulity and Dwalin wore a similar, skeptical look as he pulled the weapon from the King’s frozen fingers.

“I-it-it’s not…possible.” The snowy bearded Dwarf breathed out, gawping at the weapon in utter disbelief.

Thorin’s vision swam and he took his head in his hands. Various thoughts raced wildly around in his mind as a horse that bolted from an unlocked stable door.

_Bellana was Bilbo?_

_Frerin’s daughter? His One was the adopted ward of his own brother?_

Without warning, Dwalin doubled up and began guffawing loudly, effectively breaking the sudden and stifling silence. 

“Ye gotta be kiddin’. What‘re the odds? Our Frerin’s lass, o’ all Hobbits!”

“Miss Baggins?” Balin asked quietly, but the Hobbit clamped her eyes shut, trembling. Kíli glared at the lot and threw a comforting arm around her. 

Balin persisted, undeterred “Is it true then?”

No response.

“This is not the time,” Kíli pleaded. “We’ll just-”

Balin shook his head and proclaimed slowly. “Miss Baggins.You are Frerin Son of Thrain’s daughter. Am I correct?”

The Hobbit opened her eyes then and gazed at the Dwarrow with something akin to defiance in her suddenly flashing eyes. “Yes I am. What of it?”

Thorin cut in, drawing close to her. “You didn’t think to tell us? My brother’s child? You…you… ** _Why!”_** His voice quivered and then rose in pitch, the Dwarf bellowed the last word out loud and it echoed eerily in the clearing; making the roosting birds fly from the treetops in terror. 

His own brother’s child and he did not know it? How could it be?

_And how could she be his One?_

Miss Baggins threw off Kíli’s arm and got up on her furry feet, shaking with fury. 

“Steady there, lass.” Dwalin said uneasily but she did not pay heed to him.

“When were we supposed to have this conversation?” Every syllable of her speech trembled with rage and her eyes had lost their warm glow. “When all of a sudden thirteen Dwarrow barged in my home without prior notice? Should I have told you then, when I did not even know you or your connection to _him_?”

“Balin told you about Durin line, the other day.” Thorin replied, his tone calm and low, for he clearly saw how shaken she was. The other Dwarrow watched the two of them wordlessly, but Kíli’s wrists were clenched and Thorin knew he was struggling to keep himself restrained. “And surely you knew of our arrival? Gandalf said-”

“Gandalf was kind enough to inform me about your arrival in the morning, when two Dwarrow were already on my door step!” The Hobbit snapped, running a frustrated hand through her bouncing curls. “You would call that a prior notice?”

“We didn’t knew that, lass.” Dwalin frowned. “The Wizard planned for us ta meet in yer house from start. We thought ya knew ‘bout that arrangement.”

"Apparently he left out this piece of information too and kept us all in the dark.” Thorin growled. He wondered if Frerin knew…

No, Frerin would have shaved off his beard and braids before allowing his daughter join the Quest. And Thorin would have too, if only he had known. _Damn that wretched Tharkun_!

Dwalin continued. “Why would ya try ter hide it anyway? You’re a part o’ Company and-”

“You have still not accepted me as a member of your Company, Master Dwarf. Not one of you do.” The Hobbit responded, though with no real heat behind her words. Her sudden burst of temper had deflated as quickly as it had flared and she turned away as if making to go back to the camp. “I am just a rag-tag the Wizard brought along for you all to put up with.”

“No, Miss Baggins!” Kíli drew closer to her, putting a hand gently on her shoulder. “Don’t say that! You’re practically family, we’d have accepted you a lot earlier-“

“You wouldn’t have.” She replied, bitterly. “I know something of Dwarven culture, Kíli. You’re not family until claimed. I have no relation to you, or to anyone here. Not even as a friend for you won’t even call me by my name! My father abandoned and might as well have denounced me as his daughter. So why would I bother telling anyone here about my connection to him?”

With that the Hobbit darted off deeper into the forest, ignoring Thorin’s shout and leaving four very conflicted Dwarves behind. Thorin’s heart clenched at her words and the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes that now shone like emeralds.

Oh, but she was wrong. _Utterly wrong._

Frerin would never have left Bellana, if her own life was not at stake. He had loved her and still loved her, as if she were his flesh and blood.

And the Hobbit was related to the Durins. In more than one way.

Thorin quickly strode forward, reaching for his nephew and putting a restraining hand on Kíli’s shoulder. His younger nephew looked as if he had suffered a blow to his chest from an axe and Thorin was startled to see the angry tears in his dark bronze irises.

“Let me go!” 

“Ikhuzh khajimel, she is in need of solitude for now.” The King restrained his heir with gentle force, wrapping his strong arms around Kili’s leaner figure and pulling him to his chest.

“But she is wrong, Uncle!” Kíli fisted his hands in the fabric of his uncle’s coat. He sounded utterly broken and desperate. “We claimed her! She is my sister- I need to go after her!”

“Kíli,” Thorin said quietly. “You are well aware of what happened. She does not remember you from then and now is not the right time to tell her. You must trust and obey me on this.”

He glanced at his brothers-in-arms who stood quietly, worry and confusion lining their faces. 

“Someone go and find Fíli.” Thorin didn’t need to say it twice, Dwalin was already heading back.

The King glanced towards the forest where Miss Baggins had vanished, urging his elder nephew to appear quickly so he could after his One.

..................................................

Bellana didn’t have any idea where she was when she finally halted. Dense trees and undergrowth surrounded her, and she was only slightly aware of a large scratch on her left foot as she stumbled over a dislodged branch and cut across the gorse bushes.

At any other time, the Hobbit would have been scared stiff at the thought of being in a forest alone and with nothing to protect herself with, but at the moment Bellana couldn’t bring herself to care.

She wasn’t frightened of a stupid old forest. If a beast wanted to make mincemeat out of her, it was more than welcome to.

She was frightened of the hollowness in her heart, and the terrible loneliness that threatened to engulf her whole existence.

Ten years had passed and still she couldn’t gather herself, couldn’t get over him. She had tried though, Eru knew she tried.

 _There was bitter crying the first few days, the first week, the first month and the first half year but she had clung on to hope. Hope and strong faith in the unwavering belief that Frerin loved her and he would return for her and never ever leave again. Her Aunt Donna was wrong, Gandalf was wrong, Aragorn was wrong. Frerin would prove them so and the day he returned, she would dress them all down for doubting the bond between the two of them._

Her body slammed against a tree which Bellana had failed to see ahead of her and she slumped towards the ground, paying no heed to the pounding ache in her head.

_That hope turned into desperate anger after a whole year. Frerin was in Ered Luin and he had not returned. Why didn't he take her with himself? She was his child, wasn't she? Sheer fury had taken hold of her, rage at being left alone, anguish at what would she do with her life. The time when she screamed at everyone who dared to breach the door of Bag-End, broke many of her mother's prized possessions and distanced herself from everyone else. For if Frerin wasn't here for her, didn't care for her; she was in no need of her family. She could and would live by herself._

A bitter laugh burst from her lips only to change into a sob halfway through. 

_Finally the ray of hope she had been clinging on to, for three years and a half withered. Oh yes, she was a foolish tween and she had continued hoping and yearning for that long. There were less tears and no more anger but dark thoughts and darker dreams still. Her anguish went beyond ranting or weeping, it was a wearing numbness that made her life feel hollow and worthless. It weighed heavily upon her and wrapped around her heart and never quite went away._

_Her father had left her for good._

_Her world shattered in that moment, the foundation upon which her life was built fractured beyond repair. The sun appeared dark in her eyes for it was her birthday, third birthday after Frerin left and he still was not back._

_He was never coming back._

Bellana sank on to the woodland floor on her knees and placed her head atop her joined legs. The wound in her heart was still fresh and bleeding as if knife that delivered it had left a shard embedded in her soul. It wouldn’t allow her to heal, would never let her recover. Her heart ached and she hated herself for it. Hated herself for not being strong enough to live her own life, for still reminiscing the loss of one who had betrayed her love and trust and crushed her soul and ripped it apart. Who hadn’t thought twice before abandoning and dooming her to this lonely existence, as if it had been so easy to walk away and leave her behind.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the world around her. Bellana pulled her legs up and under her chin and let them fall and soak through the fabric of her trousers.

_Thirty three year old Bellana Baggins was tired. No hope remains nor anger and even the water-works behind her eyes have drained up. She was tired of her life even if she just attained majority. Her coming of age party was a magnificent affair, thrown so lovingly by her aunts and uncles in the Great Smials. She didn't remember a moment of it._

_It was the time she should have started looking out for potential suitors and enter courtship with a respectable lad. Every single suitor was rejected._

_Bellana was tired of well-meaning relatives and nosy old gossipers of Hobbiton who asked personal questions and poked in matters that were frankly none of their business. She couldn't live as a recluse for people came by to give her helpful advice and she didn't want to face them. So she adopted a Baggins way of life as was expected of her and looked a happy and contented if somewhat odd Hobbit from an outsider's point of view._

_No saw how she struggled to maintain that facade, how she reined in her bottled-up emotions. No one perceived the terrible cloak of depression that had fallen over her soul. No when saw her tears whenever a memory of her father filtered through her mind. No one understood her pain. No one saw her trembling at night when she felt all alone and lost nor did they heard her screaming after the nightmares that haunted her sleep._

The Hobbit was lost in this wretched forest but she couldn’t bring herself to care. For she had been just as much lost in her life before joining this Quest and still had failed find herself. And Bellana wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to do so.

Thorin knew. He had looked furious. He would know why Frerin had abandoned her and demand that she no longer travel with them. He probably hated her, just as Frerin did so in the end.

_Why, why Ada! What did I do to make you turn your back on me?_

A heaving sob broke out from her chest and Bellana crunched her swollen eyes as bitter tears cascaded from them. She curled into a feral position on the hard ground, dry leaves rustling as she shifted on the woodland floor. Her hands sank deep into the earth and the ache in her heart intensified as various memories of her father filtered through her mind.

Thick clouds were steadily forming in the sky and thunder rolled overhead. Bellana did not hear it.

There was something wrong. Something terribly wrong with her or something wrong she must have done. That’s why he turned away from her. The reason why the Dwarrow would never accept her.

She let out a trembling wail and then cried harder, a tremor passing through her body with each sob. Cold wind rushed through the forest, making the leaves rustle. And in the shade of the branches the Hobbit wept bitterly.

And then Bellana faintly registered the scraping of boots and crunching of wilted leaves from behind her.

A familiar coat lined with soft fur settled on her quivering shoulders, and out of nowhere strong arms wrapped around her body, supporting her upwards and then she was being pulled against a firm chest.

“Thorin,” his name escaped her parched lips even as Bellana frantically struggled to pull away, mortified for him to see her in this pathetically broken state. She did not make any attempt to hide the dripping moisture though, what good would that do now? _He knew._

“Don’t,” Thorin said, ever so softly in his deep voice; settling beside her with his back rested firmly against the oak she had stumbled into. “Don’t send me away. Allow me to give what comfort I can.”

His arms, so thick and warm around her, slackened their grip slightly as if giving her a choice. Bellana missed their comforting solid grip and the decision was suddenly made in split seconds or it seemed that her body had attained a free will of their own, as she climbed into the Dwarf’s lap and allow him to cradle her like a child, her head placed in the crook of his neck.

For a while the only sound in the thicket was the rumble of thunder and the sound of her tremulous sobs as tears rolling down her face in a constant stream, her frail body wracked by tremors and her anguished wails echoing in the distance. Bellana lost the count of time, not knowing how long they sat there, for she finally had someone to share her grief with. Thorin wasn't her family, he couldn't hold anything against her. He couldn't taunt her about it the rest of her life like few of her family members that did so.

The Hobbit found herself opening up to him as she had never opened up to another, letting him be her anchor as her emotions ran wild and wholly forgetting for a while that this was the leader of the Company, a King and the brother of whom she spoke of. 

_Oh I miss him Thorin, I miss him terribly and it hurts so much, I thought I had go, gone-past that but I can't-I can't simply forget him! Does he ever think of me? I hate him, Thorin, I hate him with all my being. But I still love him, Thorin, I’ll never stop loving him. He was my father, he isn’t my real father, did he consider himself my father? Did he ever love me?_

The Dwarf merely listened to her garbled words without once speaking himself, even as her convulsing sobs grew quieter and no more tears formed in her puffy eyes. Grief overwhelmed the young Hobbit as the moisture dried up on her cheeks, a numbing melancholy that went beyond tears and spoken words and left her emotionally drained.

Yet for the first time she felt consoled slightly, and the knot in her her lessened and even that sense of loneliness faded away as Thorin wiped the damp tracks from the parts of her cheeks he could reach, the calluses of his fingers scraping lightly against her skin. The rest he could probably feel soaking through his rich blue tunic but he didn't say anything about it.

He didn’t tell her that everything would be alright, that she would soon get on with her life without Frerin. Neither did he blame her. He didn't speak at all. He simply allowed her to cry over him and heard her rambling and provided her with comfort without asking for anything in return, just like that. And odd as it was, it was _enough._

“Forgive me.” Bellana heard the rumble in his chest before she heard his deep-throated, gravelly voice washing over her from above and breaking the lingering silence. “This all..." He gestured vaguely around her, sounding remorseful and utterly broken. "...is my fault. I-it was never my intent to upset you.”

“Don’t send me back,” Bellana fisted her hands in the sleeves his blue tunic and sniffed pathetically. “Don’t turn me away. Please…I-I don't want to go back-back to the Shire-”

The Dwarf pushed her head away from where it rested on his shoulder gently, and cupped her chin with his broad palm, tilting it upwards with a gentle force.

“I’m not turning you away…” Thorin said slowly, making sure to catch her eye. “Whatever made you think of that?”

“Fre-your brother left me for a reason, you’d turn…”

“I will never turn you away, Bellana. Not now when I am aware of the fact that you are my brother’s child.” His one hand gripped hers and the other gently cupped her cheek. “Not when I know how much you are grieving from inside.”

Something stirred in the depths of her heart, a warm feeling that churned inside, making her suddenly feel breathless and strangely exhilarated. Bellana’s gaze fell from Thorin’s deep blue eyes, onto their joined hands.

Reality struck suddenly as it has a way of doing so and the Hobbit lass was suddenly aware the intimate proximity she was sharing with the Dwarven King.

Sitting in his lap, held against the firm, warm wall of his chest, her own arms had been looped tightly, _desperately_ around his neck a moment ago, the rough skin of his broad palm against her cheek as if… _as if…_

Thorin’s head was inclined downwards to make eye contact with her and hers had instinctively leaned up towards his face. One of his arms was enveloped comfortably but firmly around her waist, the long and thick but surprisingly gentle fingers of his other hand rubbing the knuckles of her right one, their breaths intermingling and the jutting tip of Thorin’s nose brushed against her button one as he spoke. 

If anyone in the Shire had seen her in this position, her reputation would never ever _recover_.

Blood rushing to her cheeks and Bellana fell flat on her back in her hurry to get away from him and she let out a groan of sheer frustration. Getting up was a relatively hard, for limbs were apparently tangled with Thorin’s.

She blushed harder and didn’t dare meet his eyes as Thorin helped her up on her feet. His hands enveloped with her palms again, and it was back, the odd feeling that made her heart thump a little faster and herself feel quite out of breath. She pulled it back slowly as to not offend the Dwarf and took several steps back

“Everything alright?” Thorin asked gravely, though the corners of his lips lifted up in a half-smile. This time she met his eyes boldly, as if daring him to mention her predicament of two minutes ago.

Bellana nodded slightly, dusting herself and pulled a handkerchief out of one pocket to wipe her face clear of any moisture. She suddenly felt quite foolish and overcome with shame, _what had she been thinking crying in front of this particular Dwarf?!_

_What would he think of her now?_

Thorin turned away politely when she blew her stuffy nose, and when she finally gathered enough of her wits to look at him, he was still wearing that attractive half-smile (not that she was going to admit it) and looked at her with evident amusement.

“What?” The Hobbit gritted out.

His eyes only widened with mirth. “I have not seen someone blush that much before.” The Dwarf stated casually as if he was commenting on the weather. "I am wondering whether it is healthy in such amounts for Hobbits?"

Bellana hadn’t even needed to wonder, her cheeks were surely about to catch flames from the flare of color. She ducked her head, inhaling a deep, exasperated sigh.

Thorin's expression grew serious. “We have to set out now,” He gestured vaguely towards the direction of the camp. “And we also need to talk at length about this subject later, when you feel ready for it. I am not going to force explanations on or from you, but there are matters that need to be clarified and then resolved.”

Bellana had no idea how to respond and it took quite an effort to cobble some words together in a vaguely sensible order. “Uh, alright. I understand. 'M sorry for delaying the journey today-” The Hobbit mumbled but he shushed her.

“No. I-we all are sorry for causing you… further pain. For forcing you that explanation from you and not giving you enough time to get familiar with us before…” Thorin sighed and all traces of mirth faded from his eyes, clearly frustrated with himself and struggling to find words. To see the King who could inspire loyalty in his Dwarrow with few words, in such a position... after all her preconceived notions, he proved to be so _human._

Thorin began again. “You’re my responsibility, now that I-”

“But I don’t want to be a responsibility!” Not in a hundred years would Bellana want the Dwarrow to accept her, just because she was the adopted child of a Dwarf! If that was the case she’d have shown them her beads long ago.

_Her beads._ One of which marked her as Dwarf-friend. _Silly hobbit, you, Bellana Baggins!_

“Thorin, I-I need to show you something,” Bellana said tentatively, her hand tugging at the leather cord around her neck that was hidden by her tunic’s collar. 

Suddenly his large palm covered her fingers that had been touching the twin beads which dangled from the cord.

“Frerin’s…” Thorin said, his voice thick as he gently eased her fingers apart to gaze wonderingly at the wrought metal. “Do you know their significance, Bellana? Of what they represent?”

“As a Dwarf-friend and…your brother’s daughter,” She forced her lips to move. Bellana’s gaze suddenly fell on the Thorin’s raven braids that poured downwards from his temples and the beads on their ends were remarkably similar. The same sparkling gems of deep blue shade and the same gleaming silver metal.

Come to think of it even Fíli had such matching beads and Kíli’s hair clasp was made in a similar fashion. Only the insignias carved on them were different. 

“Together they mark you as one of Durin’s.” Thorin’s eyes gazed at hers. “A member of my clan. Which means you’re related to us even if not claimed, Mistress Baggins.”

“I…I don’t understand…” She spoke quietly, brows furrowed. “Related…you mean related to you?

“Yes, in the barest sense of the word. Basically I am responsible for you, kind of a guardian if you will. The Dwarf-friend bead also requires the whole company to look out after you.”

“I don’t need anyone to look after me.” Bellana sighed. It all sounded so confusing! And she was perfectly fine by herself and knew how to take care of herself, thank you very much.

“We’ll talk of it at length, but we should really get a move on. The morning is getting old. And your current state tells me you definitely need looking after.” Thorin glanced at her dryly.

She placed her hand on her waist, drawing to her full height. _“Excuse me?”_

“Taking off in a forest, unescorted and unarmed certainly suggests looking after…and that reminds me. Here are your weapons, Miss Baggins.”

“Oh!” Bellana sheathed them all quickly, especially her dagger; feeling immensely relieved to have them back. “Thank you kindly, Master Dwarf. And I was in fact sitting on your lap, a moment ago, so we might dispense with formalities after that!”

She hadn’t considered it possible but the Dwarf suddenly spluttered and inched backwards and…was Thorin Oakenshield, the noble and majestic king, blushing?

“We have to head back.” He did not meet her eyes. “Yes. And-”

“Oh Yavanna, look at you.” The Hobbit burst out into a fit of giggles, silly as it was. “You’re blushing. Positively red.”

Thorin stared at her. Blue met hazel eyes. And Bellana saw a truly wondrous sight that made all the morning’s hurt fade away like a puff of smoke.

Thorin threw back his head and a rumble of mirthful laughter broke from his chest. Her heart gave a sudden jolt, a wild exhilaration pooling in her chest which she failed to identify.

The Dwarf looked at her then, his eyes softening and a brilliant smile gracing his lips. His azure orbs glowed and she felt her heart skip foolishly at the sight of that beautiful expression.

So this was how Thorin looked while smiling, so utterly at ease, his shoulders relaxed and his expression _fond._ Bellana was suddenly struck at how much he resembled Frerin and his nephews at the moment.

“This is getting ridiculous.” Thorin sighed, but the hint of smile remained firmly at his lips even as he tried to rein it back in. “We should really go back.”

Bellana didn’t want to. It would mean facing what transpired in the morning. And a part of her was afraid that she would never be privy to this side of the Dwarf again.

“Mistress-Bellana.” Was she imagining the hitch in his voice? Thorin took hold of her hand again, his voice low and gentle. “I would call you a friend if I may.”

“Oh, alright then.” She replied, far more delighted at this prospect than was possible. “I’ll be more than happy to be friends with you, Thorin. But, you-you’re not angry with me?”

His head snapped at her. “Angry? No…no, Bellana. _Never._ ”

Thorin shifted and was up on his feet in seconds, pulling her gently upwards with his hand and that's how they strolled back to the camp, her fingers threaded with his as the Dwarf steered her onwards. “If you are ever in need of anything, even companionship you can always come to my sister-sons or I.”

...................................................

Bellana had her book open in front of her, and frustrated she snapped it shut. She’d been reading the same passage three times in a row and had not moved further than one page from the time she had first opened it.

The Company covered quite a distance during the day even with the weather elements against them, through roaring thunder and pattering rain over them and soaking them from head to toe; they stubbornly continued the journey and pitched camp when the sun had concealed itself beyond horizon. Night had now fallen and the Hobbit felt exhausted.

Someone sank on the ground besides her, and with a gasp of surprise the book dropped from between her fingers and on to the ground with a soft thud.

“It is considered to be a polite courtesy to let others know of your presence,” She huffed at Fíli, who grinned back at her impishly; deftly picking up the book and into her hands. How had she not heard the scraping of his heavy boots? “Just in case you don’t startle them.”

“We’ve been living in each other’s pockets for weeks,” The Dwarf handed her a steaming bowl of rabbit stew, the dinner for that night. “I thought you’d have got used to us by now.”

There was a slight tension in the way he spoke to her though Fíli’s eyes betrayed nothing. But in spite of that, they finished the dinner in companionable silence until her spoon scrapped the bottom of the bowl. After placing her empty bowl on one side, Bellana leaned on the large rock she was seated by, bracing herself for the conversation that would inevitably follow. 

“Miss Baggins, Kíli told me what happened earlier.” Fíli began cautiously, lighting up his pipe as the Hobbit attempted to find a comfortable spot. 

“Oh did he now.” Bellana mumbled and shifted to gaze in his blue eyes, the color of bluebells. “Tell me honestly, did you know? About, about-well me. I often got the feeling from the way you look at me that you were aware that I’m…I-“

“Yes, I was aware of it.” Fíli said gently. “I knew it the first time I set my gaze upon you.”

Bellana drew in a long breath. This was not going to be an easy conversation for her, having shied away from discussing the topic with her relatives and shutting out anyone who mentioned it. “And the others…” The Hobbit was not entirely sure whether or not the other Dwarrow knew of what had transpired in the morning.

“I let Thorin and Kíli know of my suspicions, but only my brother believed it to be true at that time.” Fíli replied after taking several puffs of his strangely carved pipe. “The others do not know of it yet.”

His eyes softened as the blond Dwarf peered in her hazel eyes, his deep voice softening. “It depends entirely upon you whether or not to tell them.”

They fell into silence again, hearing the boisterous chatter of the Camp and Bofur and Nori dancing while Bifur and Glóin strung out lively music on their instruments. Ori came around once to collect their bowls and chatted with Bellana about the book she was currently reading for a short while before going back to Bombur.

“What does Thorin think of me?” Bellana asked quietly, mustering her courage. “After knowing…well he seemed angry at first. But later on when…when he came after me, he was not.”

She could almost say there was something akin to…amusement in Fíli’s eyes? The Hobbit thought she had probably been mistaken for the blonde Dwarf sighed wearily a moment later and stretched his arms. 

“Uncle’s… thoughts are rather conflicted. He’s mostly anguished that you’re on the Quest, even more so now after knowing... who you are.” 

Bellana ran a hand through her honey curls and shook her head miserably. 

“He usually talks as if I should go back, even if he was friendly and kind towards me throughout the day. And I know I don’t really belong in here. What was I thinking coming out all this way? I’m not my mother after all and frankly speaking, I have proved useless so far-”

Fíli placed his palm over her hand. “It’s not that. He just doesn’t want you to get hurt. Uncle worries constantly about you and he tends to get a lot irritable when he’s worried. And he’s not naturally inclined to trust people, it’s hard for him.”

Her lips formed a small ‘o’. Thorin worried after her? Was that why he was so kind, when he found her crying that other night? And today in the forest? Was it because of her being Frerin’s child or some obligated sense of duty? 

But why didn’t he simply send her straight back to the Shire?

“You should have seen him roar when we signed up for the quest.” Fili continued, drawing back his hand and wrapping his arm around her instead. “And when Uncle Frerin insisted on joining too, he raged for days, adamant that one of Durin’s should stay at home and continue the line if we did not survive.” 

His deep voice halted. “It gave Ma a great deal of grief though.” Bellana gripped his hand tightly at that.

The Dwarf turned to her, seriously. “Part of why he fusses so is your gentleness and kindness. He has been through much loss and grief and now he has come to care for you, while we are still on a journey where any of us could get killed in matter of minutes. It’s quite a burden on him.” 

“He _cares_ for me?” Fíli smiled and tweaked a loose strand of her hair in response to the disbelieving look she gave him. “And for your information, I know a thing or two about handling weapons. I can defend myself if the need arises.” Her voice took on a fierce tone. What could she possibly do to convince these stubborn Dwarrow about that?

“I know that.” He said gently. “You are good at foraging and hunting too. And yes, Thorin cares even if it doesn’t show in his words or actions. He is rather pleased with you, for you really try to help.”

Her cheeks pinked with pleasure. “You’re only saying that to cheer me up.” 

“No, I’m very much in earnest.” The Dwarf said firmly. “And no more of that rag-tag business, alright? I would very much like to consider you as my friend and you have your place amongst the company, Bellana.”

“Did Kíli quote every word?” She couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes, peering at the grass instead and watching intently at a ladybird crawling on top of a tiny pebble.

“Almost.” Fíli laughed. “I have never seen him so distressed since we burnt Ma’s cake on her birthday, twenty years from now.”

The Hobbit shifted and placed her hands over her face. “I’m sorry for that little outburst. I don’t know what came over me, really. Did…I didn’t offend anyone, did I?” She asked anxiously.

“No, but honestly speaking you worried us all.” Fíli sighed. “That little revelation came as a shock to others. Dwalin still cannot process it.”

He took another puff of his pipe, and then blurted out without warning. “Can I see your dagger?” The Dwarf amended hastily. “It’s okay if you don’t want to show me though, I’d understand-”

Bellana swiftly drew out the weapon and placed it in his hands as soon as her brain registered the words. Fíli gazed at it in silence and laid it down on the ground, awe quite blatant in his blue eyes.

“You… you still have it.” He whispered softly, and drew out his own dagger and placed it next to hers. Even the carved runes lining the gleaming blade and the intricately carved wooden handles were identical.

“Do you know that it’s a tradition for the elders in our family to make weapons for the young ones?” The blond asked softly, his eyes shining. “Seeing as Durin’s direct descendants almost always have weapon-forging as their preferred craft. I got one of my swords from Uncle Thorin and forged its twin myself. Thorin also made Kíli’s sword and Uncle Frerin made him his bow.”

Silence lingered for a while as Bellana registered this. Many minutes passed before she found her tongue. 

“Sometimes I wonder now what would he have said if he knew I was in midst of a perilous adventure.”

The Dwarf’s eyes darkened. “If anything were to happen to you, it will end him. The same goes for any of us, believe me.”

“Even Thorin?” Bellana asked with a small smile but her brows furrowed when Fíli nodded solemnly.

“Especially Thorin. And my brother and I too.”

Fíli took her other hand and clasped it gently. Bellana hesitated before leaning against the blond Dwarf and relishing the warmth his well-built form radiated like a forge. He began to thread his thick, calloused fingers through her curls and Bellana felt sudden warmth flooding her heart as they moved tenderly across her scalp. She was well aware of what could be taken as. To touch another’s hair implied a deep familial connection in Dwarven culture and to do it without permission was terriblt presumptuous. But she couldn't bring herself to care.

“Do you know that Kíli never met our father? He fell defending me when we faced a raiding Orc pack before he was born.” Fíli said quietly. Bellana racked her brain for proper words to express her sympathy but the Dwarf continued before she could speak.

“Uncle Thorin and Frerin became the lead male figures for us; they never let us feel the loss of our father, Víli. They love us as their own sons and we love them as we would have loved our father.” Fíli’s eyes shone like the blue gems in his braided beads, his voice thick with emotion and then he glanced at her with warmth in his gaze.

“Uncle Frerin loves you too, Bellana. As his own daughter.”

“He wouldn’t have left me if he did so.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

Fíli sighed. “It’s not my place to tell you why he did that nor is it the correct moment to do so.” His eyes widened suddenly.

“What’s this?” The Dwarf placed a hand on her forehead, pushing her curls back. The tip of his forefinger traced an old scar that began on extreme left of her forehead and disappeared under the mass of honey curls.

Bellana was surprised that he had been able to see it at all.

“Oh, that scar? It’s nothing special.” She shrugged. “I fell into a stream as a tween and bruised my head against a jutting rock.”

Fíli continued to observe it carefully, throwing her a sharp glance before looking up at the velvety black sky dotted with stars that glowed like diamonds. Bellana rested her head in the crook of his neck and closed her eyes.

For a moment she was young again, tucked safely in the strong arms of her father and there was no pain or sadness only joy and contentment.

As a child she would sometimes wake up in the night feeling terrified. Frerin would take her to the window and make her look at the night sky. He would tell her how the Bounders and the Rangers were patrolling the borders so they would be safe. And how the milkman would be delivering milk and the baker would wake up early to make fresh loaves of bread.

Of how her mother and father were always watching over. And Mahal and Yavanna were too keeping a look out for her, so there was no reason for her to feel scared.

 _“I am here with you Bilbo,”_ he would say. _“Don’t feel frightened. Nothing will harm you in my presence.”_

“Time to turn in now, Bellana.” Fíli whispered in the shell of her ear and the memory lifted from her mind. “We have a long day in front of us.”

The Hobbit was torn between asking him further about her guardian, but she nodded quietly and they strolled together towards the camp.

..................................................

The Company rode through an expanse of barren lands and dry, sweltering hot weather which Bilba detested. The Dwarrow being naturally hardier folk endured the constant heat but were much less rowdy, more cantankerous and irritable and somehow they never seemed to cease complaining about lack of supplies when Bellana could barely muster the strength to heave breaths under the glare of sun. The ponies wearied out quickly and they covered less distance on foot.

But steadily they approached lush prairies once more where weather was pleasant and hunt was plenty and adventurous prospects rose again.

 _There’s a Road, calling you to stray_  
_Step by step pulling you away_  
_Under Moon and Star_  
_Take the Road, no matter how far_  
_Where it leads, no one ever knows_  
_Don’t look back, follow where it goes_  
_Far beyond the Sun_  
_Take the road wherever it runs_  
_The Road goes on ever ever on_  
_Along it I go, Dusk or Dawn_  
_Hill by Hill, mile by mile_  
_Field by field, stile by stile_

Bellana was humming to herself in a cheerfully as she rode on Myrtle, their relationship steadily improving. The Dwarrow had regained much of their diminished spirits and after singing in their deep, ringing voices for miles, they had now initiated a discussion on abilities of Wizards (Gandalf had managed to find water and food for them in the barren lands, and the Company were duly impressed) and Gandalf’s general usefulness in the quest. 

“Can’t you show us some more of real magic?” Kíli pleaded, his eyes widening like a faunt hoping for an extra helping of pudding after dinner.

“What do wizards do anyway when not on a quest?” Nori demanded. 

“Where do you live Mr Gandalf?” Ori asked timidly, and hung his head at his own daring.

At most Bellana had seen some of Gandalf’s marvelous fireworks display, a number of magical toys, and his fine smoke rings. She was aware his real business was far more dangerous and serious. 

And she also knew well enough the consequences of annoying a Wizard.

“Do not meddle in affairs of the Wizards for they are subtle and quick to anger,” the Hobbit said knowledgeably.

Gandalf shot a twinkling smile at her, before riding to the front of line and immersing Thorin immediately in conversation. 

“That sounds like a fair warning for ya lads,” Bofur laughed as he rode to her left. He continued in a grand voice. “But also dun try to ward of the curiosity of a Dwarf, for he'll poke at it until he gets his answer.”

Bellana rolled her eyes even though Bofur couldn't possibly see them. “You just described a Took. For a Dwarf it should be ‘He will poke at it and break it down if he does not get his answer'.”

..................................................

Bellana found herself collecting firewood with Ori and Bifur in the woods a little way of from the Company, as the Dwarrow pitched camp. The youngest Dwarf had a quick and inquisitive mind only held back by his shy and exceedingly polite nature. He was pleasant company and answered many of her questions about Erebor and asked about the Shire in his turn between chopping the logs (Ori had apparently inherited Dori’s strength).

“It will be a dream to gaze at it for me,” Ori told her as he and Bifur broke up a fallen log. The other Dwarf grunted and nodded as Bellana filled up her arms with a modest bunch and they set off towards the part of camp where Óin and Glóin were setting up the kindling.

“That is not how you light a fire!”

“Shut yer trap, I’ve been doing this for decades.”

“You mean you’ve been doing’ it wrong for decades!”

Ori giggled and Bellana shook her head, smiling. She’d been privy to many such arguments, and had come to accept them as inevitable. The Company Dwarrow were related to each other after all. “Will that be enough, Master Dwarrow?”

“Gather a few more for night if there’s strength left in you, good lass.” Glóin replied and she nodded quickly.

Ori was humming quietly as they strolled back into the woods, Bifur having taken off in other direction in search of his brother (or so she managed to understand from his words). 

“I wonder how it is like to grow up without siblings.” He suddenly asked her, then flushed at his own daring.

Bellana shrugged. “It suits me fine, but then I never had any siblings to speak off.” She smiled kindly. “I bet you’d get lonely without Dori and Nori though.”

“Perhaps. But they always treat me like a dwarfling.” Ori mumbled. 

“Over-protective much?” Bellana grinned. He nodded miserably in response. 

Bellana eyes suddenly spotted Thorin Oakenshield approaching her with his confident strides and loitered behind as Ori went off to collect more firewood.

The Hobbit had noticed a subtle (or perhaps not so subtle) change in Thorin’s demeanor towards her. He had began to spend time with her, asking her questions about her life in the Shire or on rare occasions shared some stories of his own. He growled at her less and helped her when she struggled or offered advice. The Dwarf also watched her fighting regime with Fíli and Kíli, giving out sound suggestions for her techniques and nodding in approval at the end of each lesson. It pleased her to no end.

He also proved to be a fine conversationalist and Bellana began to look forward to their talks around the campfire. And it was definitely nice to be called by her name instead of ‘Mistress Baggins’ or being referred to as the ‘Hobbit’ or simply ‘Burglar’.

“Kíli, _no_!” 

Ori made a strangled chocking sound in the back of his throat but Bellana barely registered it, for it was Fíli ’s anguished yell ringing out in the distance; desperate and terrified.

Thorin took a double-take and his eyes widening with something akin to wild shock. Paying her no further attention, the Dwarf all but rushed deeper into the forest to where his nephews had been tending to the ponies, Bellana and Ori trying to match the pace of his swift strides. 

Her breath coming short and imagination running wild, Bellana felt her heart cease to beat as they arrived to see Fíli dive into the rushing river, fully clothed.

 _ **“Fíli!”**_ She and Thorin cried out in unison.

One of the ponies, Frisky, had taken fright at nothing, bolted and got in the water before the Dwarrow could catch him. Kíli had jumped in after the pony and nearly managed to grab hold of its neck before he received a direct blow to his back from Frisky’s hind limbs and fell face first in the flowing water. He might have been able to get with relative ease if the river had not been swollen with rains, the strength of current dunking him downwards.

Fíli waded through the watercourse and almost managed to grab the unconscious form of his brother and was in process of dragging him towards the bank. All of a sudden, he lost his footing and slammed face first into a jutting rock.

**_“No!”_ **

Thorin dove in the flowing currrent before Bellana’s terrified gaze, reaching out for his nephews. The Hobbit stood helplessly frozen to the spot as the scene unraveled before her eyes and blood pounded in her ears. She heard Ori's sharp intake of breath and thundering of booted feet against grass which announced the coming rest of the Company, summoned by Thorin’s bellow but oh they were too far off and the river was doing its best to drown the sons of Durin.

Then, the pony raised its forelimbs, about to attack Thorin and something in her snapped.

“ _NO!_ ” Bellana shrieked and for a moment it stopped, wildly looking around for the source of the voice. It was enough, enough for Thorin to get out of the harm’s way.

“Stop! Calm down, boy, we’ll get you out!” Bellana’s voice was wobbly, as her feet tromped against the wet grass and sank into the muddy river bank; but it was enough. Frisky rested his hooves and allowed itself to be lead out of the river by Ori’s surprisingly strong arms. Dwalin and Dori were first to arrive and quickly helped the sodden trio out of the cold river.

Kíli breaths came out in short, painful gasps, his clothes sodden with water and his limp body caked with mud. His lips were tinged blue from the time spend in river’s cold water. Fíli’s eyes were unfocused and his breathing too, was shallow. Nasty bruises lined both their exposed and deathly pale skin and she feared, more hidden under their wet clothes.

Fíli had also suffered a nasty wound on his head from the fall. Blood flowed in tiny rivulets from his hairline to his jaw. Bellana felt the ground being pulled from under her feet and Thorin seemed nearly out of his mind. 

“Don’t look too good, do they?” Bofur broke the stifling silence that lingered over the camp, as Óin checked their pulse, even the toymaker’s perpetual smile was missing.

“Will they be alright?” Ori asked her quietly, Bellana’s own worried look mirrored on his face.

“I hope so,” She replied, wearing a reassuring look, though she felt anything but that. _Blessed Eru, let them be fine. Let them recover._

Gandalf had rushed forwards and was now muttering beneath his breath and blew an amount of air around the boys, and their breathing visibly grew eased. Óin then settled down by them, running a quick check-over for wounds. Dwalin helped the Company’s healer to get the wet clothes off the wounded brothers.

Óin then instructed Bombur to make a special broth as he applied ointment on Kíli’s bruises and seeing Bellana standing uncertainly by his side, asked her to hold Fíli’s head while he bandaged it.

Thorin was leaning against an ancient birch, his expression unreadable as she approached him with timid steps, afterwards.

“Óin says they’ll be fine.” Bellana informed him gently, willing his impassive face to soften. She badly wanted to reassure him, having seen his desperate, broken state when the boys were hauled out of the water and wanted to be comforted in return. “No serious injuries. But they’ll need time to recover.”

No answer.

“Give us all a good scare though.” She wondered how she could talk to this stubborn nut of a Dwarf; obviously shaken he was by the unfortunate event. “Do you-” Bellana hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it, Thorin?”

“No.”

It was alright, she told herself. Thorin must still be in shock. She was silly to think he would open up to her, foolish enough to believe he would consider her differently after that debacle in the forest. And foolish enough to think that could perhaps find comfort in each other’s company after this terrible, _terrible_ incident.

He was her father’s brother but not her uncle. She meant nothing to him.

Bellana was just stepping away, downcast, when a rough hand clasped her shoulder and she turned around to see Thorin looming and glowering down at her.

“Ttry not to wander off, Halfling. I have enough for one day as it is. If you’re lost in this wretched forest, we would have the added bother of looking out for you.”

Halfling. _Halfling._

“Ah but that will make things simpler for you, wouldn’t it?” Bellana snapped back, at the end of her tether. “Just another burden off your shoulders.” Without a backward glance, she wandered back to the camp in search of a solitary place. 

_Just who did that clothead think he was?!_ Bellana thought to herself sullenly, blinking back angry tears and thinking that she might just wander off to spite him. Preferably in direction of home.

_Halfling. How could he call her that? How dare he call her that??! Her, being his brother’s child, too._

Later the said clothead must have really grated Gandalf’s nerves as the Wizard marched away from the camp muttering about stubbornness of dwarves and telling Bellana he would be back, and ‘there’s no need to worry, dear girl’.

The Hobbit did not blame the Wizard at the least, though she worried herself out of her wits all day long. He surely had more than his fair quota of Dwarrow. She herself thought their rambunctious voices and racket was headache inducing.

Bellana leaned back against the chestnut tree she was seated against and hugged her knees, glancing towards the tent that had been set up in the old ruined barn. Fíli and Kíli were fast asleep in there after Óin’s medications, hopefully recovering.

 _She wouldn’t get attached_ , Bellana told herself firmly, even as worry for her friends gnawed away at her heart. 

The incident with the ponies spelled everything loud and clear in her mind. Fíli had proclaimed her as a friend, and the two brothers had certainly been very kind to her since. 

But it would never do to get attached to any of the Dwarrow on a perilous journey where there was no guarantee of their survival. Anyone could die at any moment and she couldn’t bear that loss.

Even if everything went well and they succeeded in regaining Erebor; she would still have to return to Bag End. These friendships would mean nothing then.

And Thorin’s caustic words stung a lot even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself. To call her a friend and then call her by that revolting name… at least there was no fear of getting attached to him, however fetching his Dwarven features were and completely disregarding how she absolutely loved the evenings when he would sit beside her and either swap stories of their respective cultures or-

“Miss Baggins, are you alright?” A softly spoken voice (for a Dwarf) captured her attention. Bellana looked up and saw the ginger haired Cook of the Company, peer at her with a concerned glance. 

“I’m fine, yes.” Bellana replied, trying to gather herself. “Nothing wrong with me. How may I help you, Bombur?”

“I was wondering if you’d help me in preparing the lunch.” Bombur scratched his ear and shuffled his feet. “I have heard often enough that you’re a good cook. And it might help to take your mind off things, yes?”

The tight knot in her stomach lessened if only slightly. Really, there was no better compliment then praising someone on their cooking skills. 

“I would love to,” Bellana said with a small laugh. “I am quite good at cooking if I flatter myself, though I love baking too and I still hold the title of having one of best food platter in Hobbiton.”

She vaguely realized her rambling and sighed as she got up and they strolled towards the food supplies. “I know I’ve not been of much use so far, though I try to help where I can…”

“Here, hold these for a moment, Miss.” Bombur smiled at her kindly as he handed her his utensils. 

“Bellana, please, I insist.” She said firmly, and marveled over the spotless silverware. “My! I haven’t seen finer silverware than these before, Master Dwarf, though my mother owned quite a fine set.”

“Call me Bombur, then.” The Dwarf flushed with pride. “My Kona made these as a courting gift for me.”

Bellana took a glance over his braided beads and one of them was markedly different from the rest. “You’re married then?”

“Yes, Miss Bellana. I am a very lucky dwarf to find my One in my life and Mahal blessed me with seven children, three of them daughters and the eight is on the way.” Bombur looked as if he might burst with elation.

She picked up the required items as Bombur instructed, while the Dwarf set up a spit. The rabbits Bifur had hunted for them today, were already skinned.

Bellana hesitated as they set about preparing the meat. “It’s hardly my business but why did you join the Quest if you had a family to look after?”

“Our duty lies with my king.” Bombur said simply. “He is a noble man and we are in his debt; my brother Bofur, my cousin Bifur and I. And feeding seven mouths was not an easy task in Ered Luin, Miss Bellana, but the King promised us another future. And so here I am.” 

Bellana was struck with the admiration and obvious devotion in the Dwarf’s voice, and wondered over his words for a long while.

It was hard to make a meal for fourteen with limited provisions than her ample pantry supplied but Bombur and she were both expert cooks and Bellana was determined to do a good job. She would prove her worth to these Dwarrow if it was the last thing she did.

...................................................

Bellana was just pouring herself a pot of the bubbling rabbit stew when she spotted a fox. It looked at her with gleaming eyes, curling on the ground and licking its mouth.

“Do you want some?” She asked in a kindly tone.

The fox shook his head slowly. _**“Nah. I nicked food from the big ugly men.” ******_

 _Big, ugly men?_ She squatted on her knees, putting the bowl aside. “People inhabit these parts?”

Firetail shook his head again. _**“Not those who you call human. They eat people.”**_

“Orcs?” Bellana asked in a terrified whisper, her hand reflexively reaching for her dagger.

Firetail opened his mouth in a yawn and swished its bushy tail. _**“Worse. You’re heading straight towards them.”** ___

The fox was warning her of looming danger. Bellana should probably warn Thorin, still infuriated with him as she was. But what could she possibly say to him? _I talked to a fox and he told me there are man-eating creatures nearby._ A simply delightful prospect.

Should she look out for herself? “Can you show me where they are?"

 _ **“Only a very stupid person would seek them out.”**_ Bellana tried not to scowl but it was a near enough thing.

“I never knew Hobbits liked to converse to dumb animals,” A low voice whispered from behind; startling her.

“It’s not nice to sneak up on others,” She scolded, patting her skirts nervously. Nori stood before her, his face unreadable as always.

Nori scoffed before saying. “You understand the creature.” It was not a question. Bellana drew a long breath. Always stick to your story.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous! I was just giving it some food.” She looked at the fox with a pitying glance. “The poor thing looks hungry.”

The ‘poor thing’ bared his sharp set of teeth at the Dwarf, alert for any sign of danger.

Without warning, a colossal boom sounded behind them. Bellana squealed and Firetail fled. Foxes are after all foxes, and being in proximity of danger is something they constantly avoid. 

Bellana shuddered. “There is something bad out there, we must warn them.”

Nori nodded but then a strange gleam appeared in his coal black eyes. “Why don’t we scrounge about a bit and report back?”

Bellana swallowed for the sensible Baggins in her told her that this was an extremely foolish plan. But she didn’t want to appear as weak when most of the Company considered already her so.

“Alright, but first sign of danger and we go back.” Nori waved her counsel away dismissively. They shuffled off towards the forest cautiously, Bellana’s sure feet making no sound and Nori’s gait too was surprisingly soft for a Dwarf. They passed the arbor where the ponies were tethered and wandered deeper into the woods.

Out of the dense mass of trees the duo instantly registered several colossal uprooted trunks that were strewn about the forest.

“What in Mahal’s name are you doing here?” Nori hissed suddenly and someone quickly placed a hand against Bellana’s mouth, effectively cutting out her scream. “I thought Thorin had told you to keep in his sight.”

A dark shape, decidedly Dwarvish in looks appeared out of bushes and a very guilty face peered back at them.

“You’re not supposed to be here!” Nori groaned. Kíli stood before them and it was Fíli with his hand on Bellana’s mouth and one arm around her back. He released her but allowed Bellana to cling against his chest as she calmed herself down.

“Someone has been nicking our ponies!” The younger whispered furiously.

“We were just strolling and heard a noise and found Daisy and Bungle missing.” Fíli said grimly. His head was still bandaged and so was Kíli's left wrist.

“Shouldn’t we tell others? Thorin?” The Hobbit said in a low tone, wringing her hands nervously.

“Ah, let’s not worry uncle.” Fíli threw her a short glance and she understood. Thorin had been out of his wits at the pony incident earlier, he would be very displeased to find the current state of things.

Especially if he came to know that his barely recovered nephews were in vicinity of human-eating creatures that also seemed to enjoy pony.

“What’s that light over there?” Nori pointed to a distant, reddish flickering that shone through the twisting branches and the network of dense gorse bushes.

Fíli unsheathed his sword and Kíli did the same. “Only one way to find out.”

Despite the foreboding in her heart and against her better sense, Bellana clambered over the dislodged trunk after the Dwarrow and took out her own dagger.

They had only enough time to hide themselves in the undergrowth that provided plenty of leafy camouflage as a huge person strolled with long, sluggish footfalls towards the light that they identified as fire.

It had two ponies in his elephantine hands.

“Trolls.” Nori stated calmly as soon as it had disappeared. Bellana knew that, having seen a drawing and read about them in a book once. But reading about one and seeing one was markedly different, and fear welled up in her heart

“Myrtle and Minty!” She gasped horrified and Fíli quickly threw an arm around her and Kíli, pulling them behind him. Her and Thorin’s mount.

“Thorin is definitely not going to be pleased.” The blond stated worriedly.  
“We have to do something!” She was not going to leave Myrtle to such a fate, however annoying and bumpy that pony was.

“Kíli take her and go back to the camp. Raise the alarm.” Fíli said decisively. “Nori and I will see if we can release the ponies.”

“Of course not!” Bellana protested. “It’s dangerous!”

Nori threw an incredulous glance at her. “You’re on a quest. Which if I may remind you, ends in facing a fire-breathing dragon. It’s got to be dangerous. You should have known what you signed up for” He flicked her forehead casually. “If you have a better idea, please enlighten us.”

Bellana scowled and rubbed at the spot on her forehead. “I can go. I am supposed to be the burglar, after all.” She managed to say it with a false bravado though the Baggins was screaming at her to flee.

“Don’t be daft,” Kíli said, flabbergasted.

Fíli hissed in her ear, low and furious. “Thorin will not allow it. Go back; we’ll take care of it.”

Nori cut in as the booming, unpleasant laughter of Trolls echoed from the direction of red light. “She is the burglar and I am a thief. It is best, if we go.”

Bellana nodded “And Thorin will have our hides, anyway, if you two are further injured.

Kíli looked torn and Fíli’s face resembled a thunder cloud. The brunet gripped her hand tightly as the blond spoke furiously. “I cannot allow you to take on three Trolls on your own!”

“I beg your pardon?” Bellana struggled to keep her voice down, her Tookish side rearing its head in defiance. “ _Allow me?_ I am not answerable to you or anyone!” Fíli leashed out an arm to stop her, but she had already stalked out in the clearing; quick and quiet as Firetail.

_She had to do this._

_She was not useless. She was not weak. And she would not be managed._

_She’d prove Fíli wrong, she’d prove Thorin wrong._

_She’d prove Frerin wrong, she’d prove them all wrong._

_She’d prove her worth to them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.Khuzdul used  
> -Tharkun: Wizard/Gandalf  
> -Uzbadê: My Lord  
> -Ikhuzh: Stop  
> -khajimel: Gift of all gifts/used as endearment for children
> 
> 2\. Claiming is official adoption of someone as family in Dwarven Culture. It is binding. Shall be discussed in detail somewhere later in this fic.
> 
> 3.The songs are taken from Lord of the rings musical and very minutely modified. Only one verse I believe.
> 
> 4\. Still figuring out timelines. Bear with me!
> 
> 5\. Recently got active on tumblr under url 'filifanatic'. Shall be posting my artwork for this fic and other bits and bobs regarding ALAS verse there soon ^_^
> 
> 6\. Next chapter will be from our other member of Company's point of view!


	7. Trouble In Trollshaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Dwarrow nearly end up roasted, Bellana does some quick thinking and has to face the consequences (read wrath of Durins) of her rather Tookish decision (in Chapter 6), and our Company (finally) arrives at Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting too long so I have broken it up in two halves. Which means that another update might follow this one, probably on weekend, before I go into hibernation once more. I have also posted a separate fic featuring povs of our Company regarding our Hobbit which may give a deeper insight on few matters. Fili and Kili's pov are already up and I hope to get Balin and Dwalin done by this week (or the following one). There is also another fic featuring one shots that didn't make it to CG. If anyone is interested in reading them, they can be found in my profile :)
> 
> Shout out to E_m_i_l_y for her constant support, and to all others who leave kudos and comments on my fics. I just realized that ISOLP made it to over hundred comments and it is heart warming and immensely humbling to know that this series is being read and enjoyed. Thanks to all my lovely readers! Hope you all enjoy this chapter too!
> 
> On a side note, I fancast Holland Roden as Bellana Baggins and Gerard Butler (from Beowulf) as Frerin.

Hindsight has a way to muck up with your mind, letting you ponder upon the various possibilities of _what might have been_ when it is quite useless to do so. For example, what if Bellana Baggins hadn't taken leave of her Bagginsish sense and sneaked into the midst of three mountain Trolls with decidedly hungry bellies, a healthy appetite, and who considered Dwarrow to be delicacy(though they were equally willing to try a Hobbitish cuisine).

Dangling from the deformed fingers of such an elephantine creature was the most horrid experience of Bellana's life. It was decidedly worse than having put up with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins unannounced visits.

"Drop 'er down, William." One of the Trolls, who was stirring the colossal steaming pot, said. A sudden ray of hope glimmered in her heart. "Pitiful creature, she is. Shan't make more'n a mouthful."

"Very true." Bellana nodded in agreement. (It was sort of difficult to do when one was suspended upside down, but she was a Baggins and so she managed). "You wouldn't want to ruin your dinner now, would you?"

"This little blighter cost us our dinner," growled William. "Throw 'er in the pot Bert, or I shall do it myself."

"I shan't and you won't eitha!" Bert roared, aiming for a strike of William's bald head with his enormous spoon. "She aint the trouble of bonnin' and guttin'."

"You're so wise!" Bellana managed to plaster a smile on her face, horribly frightened that Bert's spoon would collide with her instead of William's head. "That stew smells delightful, it's nearly ready isn't it? I am so small; barely any scrap of meat on me and surely you will delay your dinner if you started to prepare me?"

The two Trolls looked satisfied and the one holding her began to lower her to ground when-

"I am starvin!" The third Troll snatched at her. She had inadvertently forgotten about him. "C'mon now, I don't mind my meat cold."

"You would fill up on a raw hobbit when Bert is going through such trouble for you all, making that fine stew?" Bellana gasped, her heart thumping wildly. Bert's sensibilities as a cook might be her only chance of survival. "It's an insult!"

It seemed to do the job. Bert exploded. "Right you are furraburrahobbit." To the others he said. "You'll eat this stew like good boys or eat nothin' and go hungry!"

Bert looked so angry that the other two dared not protest.

"But what are we goin' to do with this ferret?" The third troll, was it Tom?, complained.

“Ferret?!” Bellana said in indignation and Tom scratched his head apologetically.

"Maybe there are more of 'em sneakin' 'round. Might be enough for a pie!" William smacked his lips together and gazed at Bellana with a ravenous expression.

It was difficult to think, being under scrutiny of three monstrous beings and her heart in her throat but Bellana managed to gather her wits. Trolls were very stupid. It was best to confuse them with conflicting advice, preferably ignite a full-fledged fight between them. The ponies had been freed by her blade and in this way she could manage to be too.

Praying to whatever Valar was present, Bellana spoke quickly. "You might put me down. There aren't any of us around, and one won't do at all, would it?"

Tom grabbed her. "Maybe there is more of you. Maybe you is lying!" Okay, maybe they weren't _that_ stupid to let fresh meat slip right out of their fingers.

"Haul her toes over the fire, make 'er squeal!" William grinned. Bellana had evidently undermined their evilness too.

"Put her down!" An angry voice burst out in the clearing. Bellana clamped her eyes shut. _Please, please don't let it be who she thought it was._

"Huh?" The third Troll squealed. Bellana opened her eyes to see Kíli's sword, glinting in the firelight as it slashed through Tom's right leg.

"I said, _put her **down**!"_

Her brother was out in the clearing in a foolish attempt to rescue her. Bellana aimed a glare at him, registering the determined expression on the Dwarf's face. That idiot, she knew he would go to any lengths to free her but that didn't at all reassure her. That utter walnut-head. How could he-

Wait a minute. _Her brother?_

A strange feeling bubbled in her heart but it was quickly forgotten as Thorin charged out of the dense trees, sword clasped in one hand, and the other members of the Company following him with hard, fierce, stubbornly determined expressions on their faces.

 _Clot headed nuts_. Oh they were all going to receive a dressing down, if they survived this ordeal. The plan reinstated itself when the William threatened to tear apart her limbs and the great, majestic idiot by name of Thorin Oakenshield slammed his sword in the ground, Fíli and Kíli following his suit, their expressions raging from raging fury to utter distress.

What followed afterwards was a blur, but the bits Bellana recalled vaguely were her Dwarrow attached to a spit and about to be roasted alive, some quick thinking and stalling for time on her part, realizing that Dwarrow were equally if not more stupid than Trolls. And finally Gandalf arriving in nick of time and thus saving them all from becoming Troll's food.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" The Wizard inquired worriedly afterwards, and Bellana could only nod, forgetting entirely to correct him about her name. Now that the Trolls had been converted into huge lumps of stone, the Dwarrow had been freed and they were out of immediate danger; Bellana had begun to feel rather nauseous. Her insides lurched in an unpleasant way, the time spend upside down had not done her any favors.

But then Fíli and Kíli marched towards her, wearing identical looks of concern and anger replaced every other feeling.

"What could you have possibly been thinking?" She glowered at Kíli before either of the duo could even open their mouths. She watched, trembling, as a bewildered look took over his features.

"Whose brilliant idea was it to rush out like that?" Bellana continued, clenching her fists. "How could you all be so thick as to follow me?"

"If you recall, Madam, we were trying to rescue you." Fíli cut in, his azure eyes narrowed. "How could you have been so stupid as to take on three over-grown Trolls on your own?"

"I was scouting, I released the ponies and I got captured. But that doesn't imply that you all should take leave of your senses, and rush out in the clearing like that without any thought or strategy. Straight into Troll's waiting pot!"

Thorin strode forwards with thunderous footfalls and halted close to where she stood. For a single moment Bellana wished the Troll had simply eaten her. She backed away instinctively but Thorin's arms shot out and encircled hers. His infuriated eyes locked with hers and Bellana forced herself to hold his gaze. She refused to be loomed over and intimidated.

"You-” He began but Bellana interrupted him by jabbing her finger in his chest.

" _You_ , Thorin Oakenshield! What were you thinking of! What kind of fool charges out against _three Trolls_ with nothing more than a handful of Dwarrow?"

"Would you have me leave here you then? At their mercy?" He gazed pointedly at the petrified stone trolls, every syllable trembling with suppressed rage. "What sort of a Dwarf would I be if I left you here to die? You would have me abandon my honor _-_ "

"To compost heap with your honor! I was managing fine!" Tears burned in her eyes. "You can't risk this Quest on life of one burglar. You would have jeopardized your cause and I am not worth that!" Bellana realized she was shouting and suddenly lost her nerve.

She lowered her gaze and whispered hoarsely. "You are not responsible for my fate and you must never risk anything for my sake. Not the Quest nor the lives of your Company."

Thorin froze as he heard his own words echoing out of her mouth. The pressure of his hands on her arms grew and he drew even closer, his warm breath washing over her face.

"Bellana Baggins, you are worth everything. And even if I am not responsible for your fate, I would not never ever abandon you to imminent death. I would- "

Gandalf's call cut him off. "If mountain Trolls ventured so far away from the north, there must be a hoard nearby. We can replenish the supplies if we manage to discover it."

Thorin relinquished his iron grip on her and Bellana shot the Wizard a grateful glance. She felt completely drained and slumped to the ground, wondering not for the first time of what she had been thinking stepping outside her door.

Apparently, the only thing that could restore a Dwarf's good spirits after an encounter with carnivorous Trolls was a cave full of treasure. Bellana cringed at the sight of the damp, reeking place and opted to stay outside as others went inside. She lit her pipe, wanting to clear her head and cringed again when two bodies flanked down beside her on either side.

"What now?" She gritted out, with no real heat for Fíli seemed angry and Kíli greatly distressed.

"We are not letting you out of our sight, ever again." The blond announced at large. "And you're not to put yourself in such a situation again."

"And I can't believe you'd think that we wouldn't come to rescue you!" Kíli exclaimed, placing his left arm through her right. "That is dumbest thing I ever heard."

Fíli nodded in agreement. "Same here. And I have him for a brother," he reached to flick Kíli's ear. "So I get to hear _more_ than my fair share of dumb things. But that was by far the dumbest."

"Oh drop it now." Bellana mumbled, her cheeks growing warm. "What passed is past. It's not like I can change anything that transpired, is it?"

"Well we'll drop it only if you promise never to do it again," Fíli glared at her.

Kíli added severely. "And admit you were being dumb. Fíli always makes me do that."

Before she could think of a good retort, Gandalf followed by Thorin appeared exited the murky cave and beckoned to her. Bellana jumped up at the opportunity and scurried off towards him despite the protests following her wake.

"Bilbo, dear." A merry twinkle danced in the Wizard's eyes and Bellana immediately regretted her decision. That and she was once again the object of the brooding King's glowering. "Here's something about your size. Consider it a present for all the birthdays I missed, and you're very welcome."

"Gandalf!" The Hobbit squawked as he handed her a small sword in a leather scabbard. "I have my knives and blades but I can't wield a sword! And for the last time, it's Bellana."

"There's a first time for anything and everything, child mine." He told her, bending down to fasten the scabbard from her belt. "Now you look more like a Tookish adventurer than ever."

Bellana flushed in mild annoyance but didn't protest further. She had learned long before that some things in this world were beyond her control and making a Wizard listen to reason was topped the list. She was about to pull the hilt experimentally when all of a sudden-

"Something's comin'!" Dwalin bellowed, and everyone became alert. Bellana could perceive a strange noise, of something slithering over dry leaves and twigs. "Arm yerselves!"

Startled, Bellana drew out her blades. Their familiar weight in her hands was reassuring sensation, and the Hobbit was afraid that handling her new sword might end up in chopping of her own head. Bellana tried to dart forwards but Gandalf pulled her behind.

"Thieves, fire, murder!" A rough cry came from ahead and Bellana took few steps back before she realized it.

"Well it is always good to be recognized," Nori snickered from her left as the Dwarrow positioned themselves ready. Dori still managed to reach over to slap the back of Nori's head.

"MURDERERS!"

Six rabbits the size of small dogs burst from the dense trees. Attached to their backs was roughhewn sleigh carrying a creature garbed in dirty, brown robes.

After a moment of stunned contemplation, Bellana realized it was actually a man. Or more likely a Wizard, judging by his long tangled beard, dirty robes stained with leaves and muck and the ludicrous hat.

"THIEVES, MURDER- oh hello Gandalf."

"Everyone calm down!" Gandalf cried in relief, sheathing his blade. He stepped forwards and helped the strange person off the sleigh. "It's Radagast, Radagast the Brown."

"Something is wrong, Gandalf. Something is terribly wrong." Bellana caught the new arrival saying, and she felt herself far from reassured even as the Dwarrow relaxed and lowered their weapons. Gandalf had pulled the Brown Wizard to the side and they began a hurried and tense discussion.

"What is it all about?" Ori whispered and Bellana shrugged. Nori darted forwards and hung about nonchalantly, clearly for purpose of eavesdropping. A moment later though, Gandalf beckoned at her.

"A Hobbit!" Radagast exclaimed happily as she inched towards warily. "My my, I haven't seen your kind for an age."

"She is the great great great niece of Bullroarer Took." Gandalf said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You remember him, don't you? A most excellent fellow he was."

"Bulleroarer Took, you say?" Radagast gazed at her with shrewd eyes. "He was gifted with a very special ability, one I myself possess." The Wizard took off his floppy hat and a small robin flew forwards, twittering madly. It cocked it's head as the Wizard muttered something unintelligible and without warning, landed on Bellana's shoulder.

 ** _"My greetings to you!"_** Trilly chirped, and pecked the point of her ear, before hopping off and taking flight. Bellana watched it, stunned once more as the bird landed on Radagast's shoulder.

"Ha! You're a speaker!" The Wizard said cheerfully. "My suspicions were correct."

"Huh...How do...how do you know... about it?" Bellana stuttered. It was a guarded secret of the Took line and no one from the outside could know.

"Why, I was the one to gift Tooks with this ability. Bullroarer saved me from a nasty Orc attack once- “A guttural howl echoed through the clearing, and everyone stilled, reclining to silence.

"Please tell me that was a wolf," Bellana gasped, her heart sinking.

"That was no wolf," Dwalin growled, holding his colossal axe ready. Without warning, a Warg burst from the woods, crouched and ready to pounce. In one swift motion it leapt, mouth barred and Thorin's blade flashed in the pale morning light as the Dwarven King struck. One swift motion, and the monstrosity was slain.

"Warg scout! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind." Thorin snarled. "We need to get a move on!"

"We can't!" Bofur cried from Bellana's left. "The ponies bolted."

Balin said sharply. "How did they find us? Is it a lone scout?"

"Uncle!" Fíli cut in urgently. "We need move! They're surrounding us!"

"I'll draw them off." Radagast said suddenly. "The Wargs cannot outrun my Rhosgabel rabbits."

Gandalf nodded sharply. "It will provide us with a distraction. We shall seek refuge in the valley of Imladris."

"Is there no other choice?" The Dwarrow grumbled amongst themselves, none too eager on this suggestion.

"None, if you want to make it out alive. We need food, for one thing, and rest in reasonable safety and also it is very necessary to tackle the Misty Mountains by the proper path. Imladris is the only nearest safe haven."

Bellana could see indecision warring on Thorin's features as the Company awaited his command. He seemed no more pleased than others on this suggestion. He glanced around and their eyes met for a split-second. Bellana held his brilliant blue gaze and urged him silently to accept.

"I am not fond of Elves and would rather prefer that we come across none during the Quest," Thorin said at last. "But I cannot imagine them to be overfond of Dwarrow either. If we have to go there, then so be it."

Gandalf nodded to Radagast who drew his reins and the sleigh skidded out of the clearing. Thorin barked out an order and they all dashed in the opposite direction as fast as their legs could carry them. Excited howls shattered the peace of the forest, and Bellana's heart jumped to her throat. The Orcs had seen Radagast.

"RUN!"

.............................

 _"O! What are you doing,_  
_And where are you going?_  
_Your ponies need shoeing!_  
_The river is flowing!_

_O! tra-la-la-lally  
here down in the valley!_

_O! What are you seeking,_  
_And where are you making?_  
_The faggots are reeking,_  
_The bannocks are baking!_

 _O! tril-lil-lil-lolly_  
_the valley is jolly,_  
_ha! ha!_

 _O! Where are you going_  
_With beards all a-wagging?_  
_No knowing, no knowing_  
_What brings Miss Baggins,_  
_down into the valley_  
_in June_  
_ha! ha!_

 _O! Will you be staying,_  
_Or will you be flying?_  
_Your ponies are straying!_  
_The daylight is dying!_

 _To fly would be folly,_  
_To stay would be jolly_  
_And listen and hark_  
_Till the end of the dark_  
_to our tune_  
_ha! ha!"_

The merry voices of the Elves in the trees, singing and laughing without a care in the world, greeted them, and although they were singing pretty much nonsense which did not at all endear them to Dwarrow, Bellana could have wept for joy. Every inch of her ached, muscles she was not aware of having until that moment throbbed dully. Her feet, though having thicker soles than your average Man or Dwarf, were squashed and badly bruised and as the Company finally halted from the incessant running; she took deep gulps of air.

The Hobbit would have slumped to the ground if it was not for the anchor of Fíli’s right arm encircled around her waist with a gently protective strength and pulling her to his side. Bellana cared not that Dori openly glared at them and others too seemed miffed at the Dwarf (with exception of Gandalf and Kíli). She gratefully clung to him.

"Open your eyes, Bellana." He whispered in her ear. "You're the only one who will truly appreciate this view."

Bellana had heard many songs and had read numerous stories praising the beauty and serenity of the Last Homely House to the East, and as her stunned self drank in the sight of the lush valley with its breathtaking beauty and clear, crystal blue waterfalls, she thought to herself that no pen nor any verse could really do justice to such a fair place.

"Bless the Valar, if it isn't young Miss Bellana Baggins!" A pleasant, lilting voice like honeyed mead floated by her and Bellana whirled around in surprise to see an Elf towering over her. Ellon, she immediately corrected herself.

He had long raven hair and dark merry eyes, and she recalled by his blue garb that he had been the one to greet the Company. She recalled that Gandalf had called him Lindir.

Fíli was gripping her arm tightly now but Bellana gave him a 'look' and he sheepishly relinquished his tight hold.

"Le suilon." Bellana said awkwardly, though she was thrilled to meet an Elf and greatly astonished that he had known her name. She couldn't help but to stare at him for he was beautiful in a way that was utterly unimaginable.

The Ellon smiled gently at her and Bellana realized that she had wondered that thought out aloud. "Your mother, Belladonna Baggins, was known to us and was a particularly good friend of mine. You resemble her so."

Somehow the Elves had already known about their arrival and accordingly had prepared a great feast, courtesy of Gandalf Bellana was sure. Smiling exasperatedly at the thought of the meddling Wizard, every thought fled from her mind when Lindir lead them upstairs saying that Elrond had been informed of their arrival and that chambers had been made ready for the Company.

Bellana had been staring at the floors decorated with mosaics and tiles and craning her neck around to take in the walls adorned with painting and tapestries when the other members of Company were lead to their rooms. The halls of Rivendell were truly stunning. The craftsmanship and delicate beauty of everything astounded her.

Fíli, who had stayed behind, nudged her gently and Bellana turned her head to look at him. That was when she realized that an Elleth who Lindir had briefly conversed with, awaited her.

"Suilad! Miriel i eneth nín. Pedich i lam edhellen?" Bellana nodded. Miriel beckoned her with a smile and very reluctantly Fíli left to follow other Dwarrow. "Aphado nin"

The Elleth lead Bellana up another flight of stairs and down another corridor where the Hobbit could see a door was open and one or two Elves were busy coming in and out. Miriel stopped and gestured for Bellana to enter. She did and her breath caught in her throat.

The room, contrary to what Bellana had been expecting was the perfect size for a Hobbit or near enough. There was a huge double bed between two large windows from which sunlight streamed in. One of the windows seemed to have a balcony. A fire was lit in the hearth and a tub with steam pouring out from it, which was clearly what the elves had been busy with as she had descended down the corridor. Nothing gave Bellana more pleasure than the mere sight of it.

Bellana stood in the middle of the room and spun around slowly, taking it all in. The walls were painted with woodland scenery, waterfalls, trees, flowers, vistas of valley and hills. It was extraordinary and wonderful.

Miriel laughed and pointed towards the bed where a dress and undershirt had been laid out.

"For me?" Bellana exclaimed in some astonishment and gasped out "Le hannon," weakly as Miriel nodded.

"These are some of your mother's old clothes that would fit you well," She said softly, indicating to the unfamiliar fabric of dark velvet blue with white lilies embroidered along neck and hemline.

Bellana, stunned for a moment, said nothing but turned around to inspect them. _Her mother's clothes._ A melancholy smile graced her lips. Then she noticed that on a wooden chest of drawers, a comb, a scrubbing brush, soap and some jars had been placed. She went over to inspect them and it turned out to be lavender oil and Miriel took hold of the second jar and pointed to Bellana's mass of tangled curls.

Bellana couldn't help but smile in wonder and utter delight. She could finally get clean. Joys of joys! Wonders of wonders! She could imagine her filthy state and felt desperately embarrassed somehow, given the beauty of the Elves. Whatever must have they thought!

Miriel giggled at her sight of her delighted face. "Your enthusiasm is unusual for a mortal; they normally enjoy stinking and regard all such things with deep suspicion."

Bellana, having firsthand experience with Dwarrow and Rangers, agreed. A thought struck her suddenly.

"The Rangers. Are they here, in Rivendell?"

Miriel nodded her head in negative, surprised by the question and then left, telling Bellana that an Elf would be outside to escort her to the dining hall.

Bellana bolted the door behind her and sank in the bath tub with a sigh. She was thoroughly going to enjoy getting herself clean without the constant fear that someone would happen upon her naked self.

A little while later Bellana dressed, trying not to over think the fact that she was wearing something that had once belonged to her mother. Miriel had also been kind enough to provide her with an ointment for her poor feet, and Bellana applied it before heading out. On a sudden whim, she let her hair fall unbound over her shoulders. Another Elleth was there in the hallway to guide her towards dining hall from where sweet Elvish music could be heard and also, the unmistakable sound of Dwarven grumbles.

"What a pretty dress, Miss Baggins!" Dori greeted her, smiling, and making room for her at the table. "You look very lovely." She saw him shoot a glare at Fíli and Kíli and sighed. The Dwarrow had already started on the dinner, and though some grumbles arose about how much green food was provided for. Bellana thought they complained for nothing, it was possibly the best feast she ever had. She ate and contented herself with listening to the music and the others conversing.

Thorin though, looked at her incredulously. "You have been carrying that with you all this time?"

"Err- no. It's my mother's, she uh she stayed in Rivendell for a time. I guess... she must have left it behind."

"Well, you look fine my dear." Balin smiled. "The color certainly suits you." He shot a look at Thorin, who was suddenly began paying close attention to one of his rings.

Dwalin slapped his back, smirking. "What's the matter, don't ya agree? Miss Baggins looks mighty well in royal blue, doesn't she?"

Bellana, more interested in eating than making out what Dwalin was implying, watched with interest a deep blush spread on Thorin's face. It was rather adorable, Bellana thought with a grin.

_Thorin Oakenshield. Adorable._

He also appeared very handsome and very _fetching_ in a tunic of deep blue which brought out the brilliant azure color of his eyes. Bellana glanced around and saw that most of Dwarrow had stripped off their armor and put away their weapons as Thorin had did so.

Bellana found that once her eyes had taken in Thorin, it was difficult to wrench her gaze away. She kept glancing at the Dwarven King between taking bites of the magnificent feast. Perhaps it was because he had such a presence (as Grandmother Took would say). Or perhaps it was due to some other matter entirely, that made her heart flutter at the mere thought of him.

Such thoughts were completely inappropriate and Bellana decided it must be from lack of sleep. So after dinner, she headed straight for her chamber, trying not to pay attention to the fact how often Thorin's eyes too seemed to be linger on her when he thought she wasn't looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The scene in AUJ was hilarious, but I think Elrond's table would have meat opposed to just greens. There is no where it says in canon that Elves are vegetarians (I do hope I am right on this one.)  
> -Elvish phrases  
> Le suilon: I greet you  
> Pedich i lam edhellen? Do you speak Elvish?  
> Suilad! Miriel i eneth nín: Greetings! My name is Miriel.  
> Aphado nin!: Follow me!  
> 


	8. When The Night Is Overcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people do nothing but hold long conversations. Consider yourself warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in my life I managed to post something on time!

"Do not be so nervous, Miss Bellana. My Lord Elrond does not bite." Lindir said lightly, grinning, as they passed through the lengthy corridor and halted before a heavy wooden door. Bellana paused to glare at the Ellon, as he knocked and then pushed the door open. Here she was, about to meet the greatest Elf Lord residing in Middle-Earth, and Lindir had the nerve to mock her for her evident trepidation.

There was more to Elves than seeming ethereal and otherworldly beings with flawless features. A mere day spend in Lindir's company attested to the fact that they enjoyed good humor in all forms, and currently she was certain it was at her expense. But then Lindir nodded encouragingly at her, and gathering her courage she tentatively stepped into an immense room.

Gandalf was seated to one side of the desk, his staff leaning against the arm of his chair. The Wizard smiled as she appeared and beckoned her forwards.

Beside him, seated at the colossal desk itself, was an Elf leaning to one side slightly with one elbow on the desk and his hand in front of his mouth as he watched her with an intent gaze. He had long dark hair the exact shade of a moonless night, a circlet rested around the crown of his head which shone brilliantly in firelight. Jewels glinted at his throat from the collar of his tunic, which, even from here, Bellana could see was intricately embroidered with silk and golden threads. The Lord of Rivendell was as the tales claimed or more so, stunningly beautiful. His skin near shone in its paleness and his tall frame reminded one of elegance and poise but with an underlying strength. 

He looked very relaxed, very much at ease and yet Bellana could tell that those eyes were sharp in their assessment of her, watching her every move. His impassive face betrayed no emotion. She felt more nervous as soon as she saw him.

The third figure was a Man standing and leaning against a huge bookcase that spanned the entire wall through which the doorway was cut. He had a cup in one hand and was sipping from it slowly as she walked towards them. 

Bellana recognized him the instant her eyes fell on him. "Aragorn!" She gasped and the Man smiled fondly at her, putting his cup aside. Within two strides the Ranger covered the distance between them and then, without any warning, pulled her into a gentle but firm embrace.

"Bilbo, glassen an achened le." He said, laughter in his voice. "It has been far too long since I last set my eyes upon you, my deadly little flower." 

"Far too long," Bellana echoed Aragorn's words. "And I wonder who is responsible for that, _mellon nín."_

"I know, Bell." The Ranger sighed ruefully. "For now, would it suffice to say that it was a lapse in our judgement? We all have grievously erred, and believe me, pen dithen, it gave me great pain to leave you wholly alone for so long. I have _failed you_ , Bellana, and I can only hope in time you will forgive me for it. But this is a conversation for another time. Lord Elrond wishes to meet you."

Bellana did not wanted to see anyone else at that time and she grabbed hold of his hands. Tears burned in her eyes, and the hollow in her chest suddenly seemed to expand once more. How long had it been since she had seen Aragorn's familiar, beloved face? How long since she had set her gaze on his dark hair and grey eyes, and that brilliant smile? How long since she had last heard his his familiar voice that made her toes curl from the warmth resounding in it?

If Frerin was her father, Aragorn and Halbarad had been her uncles who raised and groomed her when her guardian was not present. She was immensely fond of them and their abandonment too, had badly stung and left her devastated.

Bellana gave a hollow laugh. And then people inquired, why had she _changed_.

Gripping hold of her hands tightly in his turn, Aragorn lead her towards the huge desk where the Ellon and the Wizard were seated. Bellana trembled, still not able to get her head around the fact that the Ranger, oh her dearest _dearest_ friend was here, and very much _alive_.

"Bellana Baggins." The Lord of Rivendell greeted her, with genuine warmth and affection in his voice. "So we meet at last."

"I-I am-in-indeed honored," She stumbled over her words and drew a shaky breath. "Buh-but at last, my lord?" Oh bloody brilliant, Bellana knew she was going to ruin this somehow. Running over her words was a _major_ concern now, in presence of an Elf she wouldn't in her wildest dreams have hoped to meet. Bellana was sure her voice came out as if she were dry-heaving but the smile of the Ellon's face slightly eased her tensed form.

"At last, yes, hiril nin. From the line of famed Tooks, daughter of by far the most worthy Hobbit that ever lived. Adopted ward of Frerin Thunderblade, Crown Prince of Erebor and Ered Luin. Raised by the Rangers, the leader of Dunedain in fact and a Wizard," Elrond inclined his head towards Aragorn and Gandalf before continuing. "And now an adventurer from what I heard from Gandalf, on a Quest that spans beyond Misty Mountains, overtaking a journey that would lead her in lands beyond her mother's explorations. And yet you are unsure about why I wish to get acquainted with you, Mistress Baggins?"

Bellana stared at him, stunned. Lindir's light-hearted jesting could she accept, but this recital? From the Lord of Valley of Imladris? Definitely, _no_.

The occupants of the room laughed heartily at her expression.

"Sit," Lord Elrond bade her, his tone gentle. Aragorn drew out a chair for her and then himself, and still with the same disbelief did Bellana found herself seated. "You look very much like your mother, Miss Bellana. I see much of her in your spirit, 'Tookish' as I belief it is called."

Bellana smiled weakly. "Yes it is called that. But you're utterly mistaken in that assessment in my lord."

"Indeed, tell me how? For apart from my sons and Gandalf here, only Belladonna Took would have openly contradicted my words like that." Elrond smiled, his eyes twinkling though his voice remained grave. "Now, you have no need to apologize."

"But I'm truly sorry, hir nin." Bellana blushed. "I didn't mean to-"

The Lord of the Valley sighed. "And yet you contradict me again. It must be Lindir's influence."

"Or Kíli's," Gandalf added, with a merry smile of his own.

Bellana paused, glaring at them all. "From what I have heard of her, Ma would have been thrilled to be here on the Quest. And yet-"

"You joined it, only due to Gandalf's persistence." The Ellon shot a long-suffering look at the Wizard, who waggled his thick brows in return. 

"Not exactly," Bellana hesitated. She fixed her gaze on an intricate tapestry that covered the wall adjacent to the desk. Aragorn took hold of her left hand and squeezed it gently. "Well Gandalf did show up, _unannounced_ , with a descend of Dwarrow in my smial. And I joined him..." She sighed and let go of Aragorn's hold. "I wanted to know _why_." She was not willing to speak further but Elrond gave her a nod which showed that he understood.

"Plans have to be made ahead of time," the Wizard sagely nodded. 

Bellana narrowed her eyes. "I knew it. Did you send Dwalin first, _on purpose?"_

The Wizard shook his head. "Balin was supposed to go first, but Dwarrow seldom ever listen to advice, do they?"

"No," Bellana sighed, having first hand experience. "Even if they have a terrible sense of direction."

"A jibe meant for the Dwarrow King," Aragorn said, laughter in his voice. "Oh Bellana!"

Gandalf shot a smirk at Elrond, and Bellana with her exceptional hearing managed to catch the whispered words. "What did I tell you?"

....................................

As soon as they were outside, Bellana wrenched her hands from his hold. Aragorn did nothing but stand there, hurt flashing on his face before his expression became carefully composed.

"I am willing to tell the tale in full," he said, levelly. "And make every amends. If only you would let me, Bellana."

"Why should I listen to you Aragorn?" Now that it came to it, she was terrified. She had pined after her lost family for far too long, had been kept in dark for far too long. "The truth won't make any difference. You all left me, without a second thought."

The Ranger sighed, and for the first time Bellana registered how weary his face looked. "Frerin-"

_"Don't dare to mention his name!"_

"- will be arriving tomorrow. He wants to see you, before you all set off." Aragorn sighed. "He will, he'll explain. In fact, he is the only one who should do so."

Bellana froze in her tracks. It couldn't be, he couldn't- couldn't be coming here. "But-" she choked. "I don't want to meet him. _I don't ever want to see his blasted face again!_ "

.....................................

_The sight of a deformed figure and miss-mashed armor was the only warning before she was thrown forwards, sprawling onto the ground. Fíli was hurt. She... she needed to get to him._

_"Bella, go now! Don't look back! **Run!** "_

Bellana woke up, gasping for breath. She placed her head on her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs tightly; her heart beating frantically.

After an hour spent tossing and turning, she gave up, sliding out of bed and running a wistful hand along the cool, clean sheets. A walk would settle her, she decided. She would stroll once around the gardens, and then attempt to sleep again.

So she got up and made her way outside, gratefully remembering Miriel's directions. She passed an immense hall which despite the late hour seemed full of occupants, but the sound coming from it stopped her in her tracks. An Elf was singing.

And it was heavenly voice. Rapturous. There were no words to describe it. As the song washed over her, Bellana felt every iota of tension draining from her form and she lost herself in the beauty of it.

Trembling afterwards as the song ended, the Hobbit reached outside bracing herself to step outside in the cold air. As she passed through the dining hall where the rest of the Company were camped (having refused the gracious offer of separate rooms. _Dwarrow_.) and then into the courtyard, Bellana swept a quick glance around and halted in her steps as noticed a familiar figure in the silvery moonlight, going slowly up a flight of stairs. It was Thorin.

Bellana had realized that day, that she wasn't sure how she felt about him. Half of their encounters were spend in his scolding her and complaining about every single thing she did and how she is utterly useless, and the other half glaring daggers at her. And yet he had been shown himself to be gentle, almost understanding and his demeanor had softened and he had comforted her when she had been so distressed. She never thanked him for that and he never asked anything of her in return.

That and she is a slight, little bit, probably infatuated with Thorin. It’s not something that bothered her overmuch for Bellana had idolized him since she was a faunt. Really. She was pretty sure that everyone very likely has a little flutter in their chest for the Dwarf. Thorin is just Thorin. He was the brooding lost king she heard about in stories, but now larger than life and filling every space he occupied with a solid surety that drew everything in around him. Thorin was a magnificent legendary figure made real, walking around in Bilbo’s formerly quiet, ordinary world.

He was also a walnut-headed, temperamental, arrogant moron who seemed to expect that all he should have to do is furrow his thick eyebrows and give a Most Royal Frown to get whatever he wanted. 

And when he smiled, rare as it is and reserved mostly for his nephews, it’s a flash of white teeth and brilliantly blue eyes. He cared so intensely and warmly, so fully and deeply, and all of it comes out in this glowing grin that tugged insistently at something in Bellana’s chest every time it arrives. Under that grave and unapproachable facade, he is affectionate and could be quite charming if the moment called for it.

Bellana didn’t let herself think on that part though, and she was always very firm to keep those warm, fuzzy feelings locked down whenever anything deeper than a little flutter starts to stir. It was better to stay shallowly infatuated with the Hero Thorin from Frerin's tales. Because Thorin is something grand and so, so unobtainable. And that was fine for her, because it was much safer that way.

She had suffered enough heartbreaks. She didn't want to suffer anymore.

Still, Bellana approached and began to climb the stairs. She had come to care for him, for all of them because she was lonely and had slowly began to realize it. Hobbits were social creatures who weren't meant to be alone and relished closeness and touch of others. Yet Bellana isolated herself but now it is becoming harder for her to do so. Th Dwarrow do not realize it but they are the closest thing to a friend or family she has had in years.

As she was climbing Bellana suddenly perceived snippets of a conversation, held in hushed and grave voices.

"And how can you ascertain that Thorin Oakenshield will not fall?"

"It was the ring of power that corrupted Thror's mind and clouded it with lust of power and greed. The mountain or the gold within had nothing to do with it."

"Gandalf, there are rumors of the curse of the line of Durin. A curse that manifests itself as madness and gold lust. It can only be ended if a Durin is strong enough to break it or else it would fester and continue for generations. Thror succumbed to it. Thrain is also is said to have driven mad by grief and that became his downfall. Thorin Oakenshield, has sensibly kept away from the mountain for long. But if the mountain were to be reclaimed and he is brought into proximity of gold, I fear that he would too succumb to it's curse."

"But the Dwarrow are determined to reclaim their homeland. And I mean to help them on the way. And think about this matter Elrond, the Dragon has been in Erebor for far too long. You are aware of the destruction it can wrought if it is not destroyed."

"I understand that. Thorin Oakenshield has noble intentions but well-"

She didn't catch what was said next but Gandalf suddenly spoke. "The curse. It can manifest in Frerin and his sister-sons?"

"Likely. But he is more susceptible to it. If he falls and breaks the curse, its hold will be broken for ever. If he doesn't... then I am afraid it will go ill with the Dwarrow. His brother and nephews will likely be affected, too."

"You had a vision," Gandalf's voice was quiet but troubled. "Tell me about it."

At that point, Bellana had heard enough. It was not a conversation meant for her ears. She climbed the rest of the flight of stairs quickly, hearing laughter and sound of amusing jokes reverberating from dining hall but then-

"It was a foolish hope, but all the same I wished Gandalf that you hadn't involved Bellana Baggins into this."

"You have seen her future for yourself Elrond and her path is entwined with that of Durins. You know this."

"I do indeed, but there is much grief and pain for her in there. I wished she could be spared of it. And yet she is the only one who can potentially break the curse."

_Break the curse? What was this curse they kept talking about?_

"What are you doing here?" A deep voice spoke from her behind, startling her.

"Thorin." Bellana breathed, seeing the Dwarf leaning against a nearby railing. "Is- is everything alright?"

“Leave, now.” Thorin said in a strangled whisper. His thoughts were one chaotic whirl, and he didn't want to see him like that. He wanted to remain unaffected in her eyes; a leader, as she probably would have heard that damned conversation.

Bellana’s chin snapped up as she recoiled, shock and hurt warring within her gaze as she looked at him.

"I... I... thought you...you might be in need of company-"

"I have no need for _your_ company."

Bellana took one fleeting glance of his stoic features and whipped around on the balls of her feet. _So much for seeking him out_ , she thought bitterly. Just as she was about to head downwards she heard his voice calling.

"Bellana, please wait! I apologize, I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

Bellana stopped and slowly whirled around watching him advance and then halt by where she stood. Ever so gently, Thorin took hold of one of her hands, and then lead her towards a bench. Bellana wasn't sure why, but the contact made blood rush to her cheeks. His hands though calloused and rough felt so warm around her own and-

_Stop it, before you put your foot right in it._

"I am sorry," Thorin began again, now seeming truly ashamed of himself, but she interrupted him gently.

"It's fine, I didn't mean to intrude. I understand you may have far more pressing things on your mind."

"And I didn't mean to be so rude. I hope I haven't offended you." He inched his head downwards and a half-smile formed on his lips. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"No, I mean yes. I, uh, well I wanted to thank you to be specific."

Thorin's thick brows furrowed in confusion, he was momentarily distracted by how the moonlight make her curls shone. "Thank me? For what?"

Bellana drew in a long sigh. It wasn't quite easy for her talk when his blue gaze was fixed on her. "I... uh... I."

"Bellana," he whispered softly, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of her hand still held in his. "You have nothing to fear from me."

"I do not fear you. It's just... I not used to this. Adept at talking I mean. You'll find that I am not the most social of Hobbits."

"You do well enough, when it comes to complaining." The Dwarven King said, eyebrows rising rather majestically.

"You're mocking me." She glared at him. "I am trying not run over my words and all you do is to mock me."

"And for the I must apologize again." He raised one of her hands to her lips and _kissed_ it. "Proceed."

Bellana gazed at her dumbfounded and swallowed hard. She failed to truly understand how she got to the point in her life where the merest touch of this Dwarf had somehow invited a kaleidoscope of butterflies to set up party inside her stomach while encountering Trolls had felt like business as usual."I wanted to thank you for being there... well when I was distressed."

"Bellana you're part of the Company," his voice deepened. "I do not want you to feel that you cannot come to me with your concerns. I would do everything in my power to set your mind at ease.” His thumb smoothed over the line of her knuckles and as those blasted butterflies kicked off in her stomach once more, she suppressed a shiver, but only just.

"Since when did you start calling me by my name?"

He froze and suddenly let go of her hand. Phantom warmth lingered at the skin. Bellana shivered again and told herself once more to stop being foolish.

He began "I am sorry, I didn't mean to- "

"It's alright!" She said hastily, all wonderment at Thorin's distressed expression. "It's a sign you finally see me as a friend instead of outsider."

"It is?"

"Yes, I well. I feel left out sometimes, and you all... well we have been complete strangers, yes? I guess it follows."

"I don't understand. Our dams are few and immensely priced and it a sign of great disrespect to call them by their name if they haven't explicitly allowed you to do so. It is normally..." He didn't meet her eyes. "-a sign of a courting couple to call someone by their name if they are not of your family."

"Oh, I understand why Dori seemed so scandalized when Fíli used my name." Bellana blushed. "Well it does follow now. Among Hobbits only strangers call you by your last name."

"I see. Dwarrow do not have last names, but-" Thorin hesitated. "Will you permit me to call you by your given name?"

"Of course," She replied easily. "But you must have disapproved of it too when..."

"No. It is perfectly acceptable for Fíli and Kíli." Thorin said softly. "They are your brothers, after all."

"My brothers..." She frowned. "But I don't remember-"

"You don't remember?" The Dwarf said uncomfortably. "Or do you not want to remember. I know you lost your memory for a time Bellana, but you have been repressing the others."

"I-" She blinked stupidly. "I lost my memory?"

"Oh, Bella." Thorin drew out a long sigh. _Bella._ No one had called her that in a long time. "I don't know if I am the right person to tell you about that."

"Please, Thorin. Haven't I been left in dark for far too long? I don't understand why Frerin left, I don't understand why I don't remember my brothers as they seem to remember me. There must be a reason for that, for my memories are a blur." Bellana shuddered and closed her eyes. "I just recall feeling terrified and falling, surrounded by clashing sounds. There's a huge white thing, or a person- I don't know exactly, but he appears in my nightmares. And-"

"You... you have night terrors?" Oh, she hadn't meant to tell him about that. But suddenly, Thorin's left arm was wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer to his side, enveloping her small figure with his radiating heat.

"Yes," She admitted, still not opening her eyes. "They were a frequent occurrence after, after Frerin left. But over years I managed to suppress them. I-" She covered her face with her hands.

"You had one tonight?"

"Yes. I think it's ridiculous, but maybe the Orcs triggered them. They- they were in it and oh-" _Why was she telling him about this?_ He would probably think she was weak- weaker than the Dwarrow had imagined and utterly worthless.

"I am sorry, I don't know why I am subjecting you to this." Bellana gave a weak laugh. "Let's talk of happier things? Or perhaps, you would want me to go now, yes? I am probably inconveniencing you."

He stared at her, and Bellana sighed for she knew Thorin saw through her facade. He was exceptionally perceptive. "Bellana, I want you to remain here and listen to me. There's no shame in admitting to such dreams, and you should not keep everything buried in inside you- only for it to burst out later. You don't have to confide in me now, but don't keep everything bottled up. Talk to me, talk to your brothers. None of us will judge you for it. Okay?"

"Okay."

Thorin sighed. "You're being like Kíli now, letting my words go through one ear and out the other."

"Well, I am supposed to be his sister."

Thorin nodded grudgingly. "They are going to elated and overbearing. I only wish I could make my move sooner."

Bellana inched her head from where it rested against Thorin's shoulders and arched her both eyebrows. "You're going to be my uncle?"

Thorin threw his head back and laughed, and by goodness it was such a lovely sound. Bellana felt the rumble in his chest before she heard it and warmth pooled in her heart. Thorin then lowered his head and rested his forehead against her, brushing his nose against her. Bellana felt herself holding her breath, knowing the significance of that gesture.

"Mahal, no Bellana." Thorin's voice was had a hint of breathlessness, and Bellana decided it was because of her rather than... you know the cold air and such. Because she was an idiot.

"Then what?"

"For now, friends would suffice." He told her, inching away gently until they were again staring at each other's eyes. "You are being exceptionally open today."

"Your influence," Bellana told him lightly. "Or perhaps it is because I finally feel that I am worth someone's time."

Thorin gazed at her saying nothing for a while, his eyes peering at her searchingly. She felt as her eyes told him answers to questions that went unsaid.

"My brother," He began haltingly but at her reassuring nod, continued. "All the things he told me about you, his beautiful Bilbo, they made quite a vivid image in my mind. You radiated of warmth and joy from his memories. You still radiate warmth, but I see no joy in your eyes. He left you devastated, Bellana."

Bellana swallowed. "He did." Suddenly, it was it too much of her willpower and courage to look in Thorin's darkening eyes, and she tilted her head downwards. "Gandalf told me that I have changed and not entirely for the better."

"Grief and loss changes people, and I know that better than most. But now you have us. You have your brothers who love you, and I know they are still awake; wondering how to approach you tomorrow. They intend to claim you, once more." He smiled at her stunned expression. "You don't need to keep yourself isolated anymore."

Silence reigned once more, only broken by rustle of wind in the swaying pine trees. Sighing brokenly, Bellana slotted back into the circle of his body like a puzzle piece returning to its place. This late out in the night in company of a male who was not a relative was hardly respectable for a Baggins. And Bellana Baggins couldn't bring herself to care. She buried her nose in his chest, feeling his forge-heat and smelling the essence of Thorin's skin. She felt for the first time, a sense of belonging, as if she was back in Bag End. Not the smial that the Company visited, but like a home it used to be when Frerin had been in her life. Full of warmth, joy, love and companionship.

“Thank you, Thorin. For this conversation, I- I really needed it. And you know, for earlier and all. You have been very kind to me.”

He huffed a short laugh. "Balin would say otherwise."

"Well," Bellana amended quickly. "Very kind, save for all those scoldings."

"You, madam, are a trial for my patience. Putting yourself in unnecessary danger all the time."

"The encounter with Trolls makes only one time!" She protested.

"Oh yes?" Thorin raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked up. "What about the time you ventured out in the woods in search of mushrooms, of all things, and lost the path?"

Bellana scowled at the reminder. "I managed to find you all."

"And the time you went hunting with Dwalin and Kíli, we couldn't find the two of you for an hour."

"It was hardly like ten minutes. And we brought back the most game! And what about you, leading us to that dreadful bog the other day because you wouldn't accept Gandalf's assistance?"

" _I did not lead us there_ , we lost the way."

"You mean to say, _you_ lost the path."

Thorin sighed, and then glared at her. "It happened just once, will you let it go?"

"One time?" Bellana exclaimed. "What about you losing yourself in the Shire? Twice, if I remember correctly."

"I have seen rabbit warrens less confounding."

"Just admit you have a terrible sense of direction. And stop brooding."

" _I do not brood_."

Bellana did not know how much time they spend in conversing and bickering and continued to do so until pale moonlight began filtering down. After what seemed like an age Thorin laughed and patted her head gently. "Time for bed for little Hobbitlings."

"The correct term is fauntling. And I am not that small!" She protested in spite of the smile gracing her lips.

"Just small enough," he replied, taking hold of her hands and pulling her gently up from the bench. They slowly descended down the flight of stairs, still holding hands and Bellana found she didn't mind that at all. As they about to reach where the Dwarrow camped (Bellana had decided to sleep with them after all) Thorin did the most ridiculous thing that had Bella’s eyes widening, her cheeks reddening, and her breath catching in her throat; he leant down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

She watched him, gobsmacked, as he straightened his spine and smiled down at her.

 _Oh, botheration,_ she thought helplessly. _But I don’t suppose there’s anything for it though? We Tooks fall so very heavily, after all._ She frowned. _So do the Bagginses, come to think of it. Fiddlesticks._

Fíli and Kíli, correct to Thorin's prediction, were still very much awake when the entered the hall, both shooting glares at their uncle and beckoning Bellana towards them. She grabbed hold of her bedroll and made towards them.

"Why the frown?" She whispered so as to not awake the others, spreading her bedroll between the brothers. It had became a habit to do so.

"What were you doing with Thorin?" Fíli hissed. Bellana got into covers and stared at him in confusion.

"We just talked Fíli," she shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing special what so ever. But why do you glare so?" Bellana did not saw Kíli making a very rude hand gesture towards his uncle, before throwing an arm around her.

"Just talked? It has been over an hour!" Fíli exclaimed disbelievingly and lowered his voice. "He better not have been making any moves before going through us, I'll break his bones. Did the topic of courtship came up?"

"Honestly! Are you out of your mind?" Bellana gasped. "Courtship?!"

Fíli finally relented and slumped down. "I would have hate for him to coerce you into something before we get to claim you again."

"Claim me?"

"As a sister." He elaborated. "Fíli and I have been wanting to do that for a while."

"But-"

"You are Uncle Frerin's daughter, Bilbo. You were always meant to be our sister."

"But I-" Bellana got up again, the covers falling from her form. "I don't want you to do that, just because I used to be your Uncle's ward. You don't need to feel responsible-"

Kíli glared at her before pulling her unexpectedly in a warm hug. "Stop this nonsense about doubting yourself. You're our sister, and you're stuck with us for eternity because we want you. We'll claim you tomorrow properly, ceremony and all. Fíli has the beads prepared."

Bellana hugged him back tightly and Fíli wrapped his arms around the both of them. Despite the chill seeping from the ground, she felt warm and for the first time, _wanted_.

............................................

A cloaked and hooded figure entered the hidden valley in the silvery moonlight.

"You are late," a deep voice grumbled.

"Says you." The Dwarf retorted instantly. "The Wizard who always fails to keep his appointment."

"Still the same old Frerin," The Ranger, standing to the left of the Grey Pilgrim, laughed. "It is good to see you again, my friend."

Frerin pushed back his hood and grinned. "Hope I'll be still here by the morning for you then. Thorin is going to kill me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish phrases. Note as Bellana was raised by both Frerin, who knows a fair bit of Sindarin and the Rangers who taught her Sindarin to be fluent in this language.
> 
> -glassen an achened le: It is my joy to see you again.  
> -Mellon nin: My friend  
> -Pen dithen: Little One  
> -Hiril nin: My lady  
> -Hir nin: My Lord


	9. My Heart Is So Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone makes a mess of things, and Thorin is the only sensible person present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the Book Thief by Markus Zusak. And though I will try my best to write more, please don't expect regular updates. 
> 
> Oh and I made a [thing](http://gilorneththegold.tumblr.com/post/133191475648/i-cant-use-photoshop-to-save-my-life-so-this-was) regarding this... there are more if you go through [ALAS verse tag](http://gilorneththegold.tumblr.com/tagged/ALAS-verse) on my tumblr.

_"Frerin!"_

"That is my name, brother mine."

"You... _ **you**_ ," It would be fascinating to note how Thorin's pale skin darkened to a blazing crimson and the coals of his startling blue eyes dilated, after he had recuperated from the initial shock of seeing his younger brother standing in the doorway of his room. Indeed it was always fascinating when such wrath was directed at someone else, but when Frerin was at its receiving end?

The Dwarf had always preferred to _flee_.

"What by the Halls of Mandos are _you_ doing here?!"

"Is it too much to expect a simple greeting or _'I am glad to see you brother'_? Have any idea of how hard I pressed on to catch up with your Company?"

Thorin clenched his wrists and bestowed his younger brother with a death glare, that truly marked him as Durin's heir. Frerin had named it MRF, the shortened form of _Most Royal Frown_.

Though at the moment, a mere MRF was not enough. Thorin bellowed at him at for a good many minutes, trembling with rage. It was not advisable to interrupt such a tirade for either Thorin's or Frerin's health, so the younger Dwarf drooped his shoulders and endured it all with patience of a saint.

All the speeches he had prepared, every single rehearsed word faded from his memory at sight of Thorin's sheer rage. 

"You stubborn, absolute arse- _Frerin_!" was the only warning the blond Dwarf got before the elder enveloped him inescapably into a tight embrace, crushing him against his chest so hard that a less sturdy creature would have probably been strangled by the sheer force of it.

A peaceful quiet replaced the heated tension of that had reigned over the room, and it stretched on as they took support and comfort from each other's presence, no words being needed for that serene moment. The joy and utter delight of being reunited with his brother made hiss breath catch in his throat, even though Frerin could have gone without all that heated exchange. The sudden influx of emotions were immense and overwhelmed him as the parting in Ered Luin had did so, though it had been wretchedly hard and bitter whereas Frerin felt light headed with relief and comfort now.

He clung on tighter to the warm brace of Thorin's strong arms, resting his forehead against Thorin's and letting go only when the elder all but shoved him away after the moment of tender affection had lingered and passed on.

"Kidhuzurâl, why are you here?" Thorin said in a low rumble, with none of the heat of earlier. His azure eyes, which had flashed with barely surpressed anger a moment earlier now grew concerned. "Did something happen in Ered Luin? Dís- by Durin's name, don't tell me that something happened to her!"

"No, everything's fine and under control." Frerin responded quickly, his dark eyes gazing at his elder brother reassuringly. He had already known that his unexpected presence would have Thorin probably assuming the worst. "Dís is well, and if it is possible she has grown in energy and-"

"The what are you doing here?" The King asked quietly, and Frerin flinched at his icy tone. "I told you not to follow us, I handed over the charge of our people to you. How- how could you betray my trust like that, nadadith?"

Rage, fury, tirade and even physical blows. That the Dwarf could have endured. But at the way Thorin's gaze became devoid of expression, the barely suppressed disappointment and anger in his voice and the coldness of his eyes; Frerin felt himself shrinking away. The softly spoken words of blatant disapproval cut into him, sharper than any knife or dagger would have done so.

"Please, hear me out." Frerin summoned his weakening courage, and Thorin relented; perceiving the urgency in his brother's tone. "I come bearing news Thorin, ill tidings. My sources are spread far and wide, and they all reported increased Orc sightings and raids."

"How does that concern us? The Orcs heard about the quest?"

Frerin nodded his head somberly. "You encountered them near Rivendell, yes? Well that was no stray pack. They were _directed_ to hunt you out and capture you."

"That is not possible." Disbelief colored the King's tone. "The Orcs are scattered and divided, they are under no one's command. Who would give them such instructions? Unless-" Thorin's eyes widened with comprehension and he spat out the next words. "-the spawn of Azog still lives."

"Yes," Frerin tried vainly to keep himself composed. The mere mention of Bolg made his blood curdle and fury and hatred surged in his heart. "But the situation is far worse than I initially believed. Far _worse_ than that, mark my words brother. I-I received further reports, of a large, pale Orc with one missing arm-" 

" _No._ It's not-"

"-rumored to have been sighted near Greenwood. Or rather Mirkwood as they call it, and far more fitting name. But now, the Orcs under him have began to haunt Weathertop."

"That filth was slain in Moria long ago!" Thorin bellowed, his eyes flashing dangerously. "He _couldn't_ have survived the wounds I inflicted on him."

"Nadad, please! Calm yourself down!" Desperation rang through Frerin's voice. "I myself thought the news to be false at first, but it is true. The Rangers have validated it, a number of them were killed in pursuit of Orcs. You have to believe it Thorin and take precautions. The Orcs have sworn to kill you all, you mustn't let them succeed. You- you can't let them succeed!"

"I-I can't believe it. I refuse to do so." Thorin's breathing came out in short rasp. It was a shock to know that their Quest was doomed from the start, that they were being hunted by foes believed to have long vanished from the surface of Arda. "How can I? How can my Company survive against such an enemy?"

"You can't lose hope, nadadel." Frerin said earnestly, clasping Thorin's tensed shoulders with his either arms. A witless fool could see that this quest was far-stretched. Travel half the world? Face a dragon? _Kill_ the said dragon? Reclaim an entire kingdom with just fourteen Dwarrow and one Hobbit? Nobody in their right mind would come up with such a journey.

But this was their only hope towards a brighter future, to return the dwindling Dwarrow to their bygone glory. To reclaim the homeland they had lost. Frerin couldn't bear to see that hope dimming in his brother's eyes. "I came here to warn you, not to prevent you from going on. Against all odds did you began this fateful journey, and if anyone can go through it and regain Erebor; it is you. It was always _you_ , Thorin. Do not forsake hope."

"Hope? There wasn't much hope for me from the beginning," Thorin said with a deep sigh, but the glimmer had returned to his eyes. Frerin hit his head lightly, scowling. 

"Here I am, attempting to wax eloquent and giving you a motivational speech. You are supposed to be _motivated_ , not start moping!"

Amusement and mirth replaced the dark outlook of Thorin's stormy expression, which was exactly what Frerin had been aiming for. So he didn't mind (overmuch) when the Dwarf bumped his head with him and nearly bashed his skull in.

Really Bilbo had spoiled him, with her soft, sweet and adoring gestures of affections. Speaking of whom-

"Do you know, melhekhul, who your appointed 'Burglar' actually _is_?" Frerin asked emphatically. His expression mirrored that of Thorin's, not two minutes ago.

Thorin gazed at him, uncertainty warring in his eyes and his brows furrowed. He nodded in affirmative, weighing his words carefully. Not for nothing was Frerin an heir of Durin, he could be just as hot-headed as Thorin when something truly incensed him.

"Believe me Frerin, I did not know. I have never seen her before, I couldn't possibly recognize her as your child." His voice wavered, and there was a strange shift in his expression that Frerin failed to place. "It was all the work of Tharkun and he, well succeeded in making her come with us. If I had realized that she was your daughter, I wouldn't have allowed her to join the Quest. Even back in her home, I was against it. But Gandalf was adamant, and I very well- couldn't stop her from signing the contract." 

Frerin nodded slowly, exhaling out a sigh. "I- I strove all my life to keep her safe. What did I not do to ensure her protection? I did all I could, to the extent of abandoning her when her life was threatened due to me. Bilbo _nearly_ got killed on my account once. Then why did this have to happen? How- how could she do this?! What was she even thinking off, coming on such a hazardous journey!"

Thorin drew closer to his distressed sibling, his voice considerably softer when he spoke next. "You could not have foreseen or prevented this, Frerin. None of us could. It was the will of fates and a meddling Wizard, but in the end Bellana chose this path for herself."

"But I drove her to this, didn't I? If I only had brought her with me to Ered Luin-"

"You couldn't have, her family didn't let you- did they?" Thorin gave a tight smile. "It is no use reminiscing over what could have been, something you tell me often enough. Don't haul yourself over coals over it."

Frerin nodded, and his eyes gazed out of the window wistfully. "She wouldn't be very pleased to meet me I deem, she probably hates me as it is. But how I dearly wish to see her again! I must do so now, explain to her all that was left untold and should have been confided in her. But Thorin-" The blond turned around to look at his brother in disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me that Fíli and Kíli also failed to recognize her?"

"No, they knew it almost instantly, or so I believe." Thorin huffed out a laugh and told him of how the duo had tied themselves up in knots over the worry for the Hobbit. "They are going to claim her properly once again, today."

Frerin flushed with happiness. "And what about you brother? Do you not think that she is simply perfect?"

"That she is," Thorin replied gruffly, the tips of his ears turning red. Thankfully, Frerin did not seem to notice. He wanted to say more, perhaps describe exactly how Bellana had enchanted him and perhaps reproach Frerin once again for what he did to her.

But Thorin did not yet wanted his little brother to find out about Bellana, and how she was his One. And Frerin had endured a liftime of pain and guilt already without mentioning the abandonment again. 

"Oh nadad, it seems as if centuries stand before us now- and yet I love her, Thorin. I love her all my heart, I can never stop loving her. I must see her again before I leave- it might be my only chance to ask for forgiveness."

"Do not speak of such things!" Thorin said, his voice deepening. "Have firm hope that we shall survive through this, then you will never need to be parted from her again."

"Hope, yes. Hope for a future with her, and all our family together." Frerin smiled and echoed his words. "Never to be parted again."

"Hope for a future without suffering, and no more fear." Thorin whispered, smiling in his turn, as they rested their foreheads against each other's. As it always happened with Frerin there with him, along his side, Thorin's spirits soared. Their love for each other blazed so brightly that for a blissful moment, the duo forgot to fear the future.

....................................

The crooning of songbirds echoed through the hall, and the young Hobbit splayed out in a bedroll let out a groan as rubbed her face into her pillow. She settled back down, not wanting to leave the comfortable warmth of her bedroll and waiting for Thorin's reprimanding voice to rouse her into consciousness again.

Only it didn't come. A sudden, frighteningly loud thumping sound and boisterous voices cheering and catcalling in sync took its place. Her hazel eyes shot open and her brows puckered up in a frown.

It had to be early morning! _What in name of Green Lady were Nori and Dwalin thinking?_

Huffing in annoyance, Bellana shoved herself up into a sitting position, running her fingers through her tangled mass of honey curls. Mornings never got along well with her but mornings with thunderous clapping and muffled drag of Dwarven boots against the polished floors of Rivendell were _decidedly_ worse. All the more so, as she could have gotten a few more blessed minutes of uninterrupted sleep.

"Mornin' lass!" A cheery voice greeted her and with that few more chorused 'good mornings' as well. Bellana smiled brightly at them in spite of her exasperation.

"They're fighting. _Again_." Bellana's gaze lingered over Bofur for a moment, before going across where true culprits behind her awakening were involved in a pretty little kerfuffle. "What was it this time?"

"Ah, well nothin' I'd know 'bout. They were at each other's throats, long before we woke up." Bofur gave her a sheepish grin just as Dori came by.

"Here you go dearie. Don't you mind the others." Bellana gratefully accepted the steaming mug of tea offered to her, only paying half attention as Dori plopped down beside her, another mug clutched in his hands, and tutted disapprovingly. "Going on like this, in an _Elven_ territory. Preposterous, that's what I call it. Nori, he is always up to foolishness- never listens to reason, not he. But Dwalin ought to have more sense. Our hosts are going to be very displeased if they come across such ahem - 'activities'. He should know better, honestly."

"Now, don't ya worry ya head off Dori. They're only having a bit o' fun. Exercising their muscles, limbs an' all." Bofur rolled his eyes and made exaggerated hand gestures to emphasize his point. Turning towards the Hobbit, he twirled the flap of his hat and said. "Still, sorry ya couldn't let ya have a little lie in lass, these brutes here are about as quiet as trumpets."

The miner shook his head at her arched look. "That's ta say, not at all."

Bellana, feeling loads better as she sipped her hot beverage, smiled at him reassuringly. "Don't worry your head off, Bofur." She grinned, echoing his earlier words. "It's alright. I don't want to get in habit of sleeping in late, anyway, or Thorin will have a perfect fit. He'd probably leave me behind on purpose when we depart from Rivendell. Speaking of which- where is he?"

The Hobbit swept a swift glance around, waving as Ori caught her eyes. The other Dwarrow, watching the sparring session with abated breaths, didn't once glance up. Bellana snorted to herself. Having become quite accustomed to the mannerisms of the Company, she knew they had a betting pool running on who would emerge as the victor. _Dwarrow._

She frowned, failing to register the familiar blond and brunet duo among the Company. "I don't see Fíli and Kíli anywhere either. Where have they gone off too?"

"Ah, they set off real early in the morn. Before anyone was up." Bofur scratched his head, peering around as well. "No idea what trouble they might be brewin'. Haven't seen Thorin either, not me. But tis alright, they'll show up soon enough." He said reassuringly. Suddenly a mischievous look gleamed in his eyes. "Thorin said himself this mornin', not ta disturb ya. Said ya turned in real late last night?"

Bellana's cheeks turned crimson. "You better not be implying, what I think _you're_ implying."

Bofur laughed and then ducked to escape Dori's hefty hand came around, managing to jerk his floppy hat off. "Now now, not need ta get worked up. Keep the hairs on your toes on and get up like a good lass- ya can wash up in the leaf-eater's fancy fountain outside or go in, as it pleases ya. Bombur saved breakfast- mighty fond of you he is."

"Bofur!" Dori exclaimed in a positively scandalized tone. 

The hatted Dwarf waved him off, giving Bellana an exaggerated wink. "Now, now Dori. You'll probably burst if ya go any more red o' purple. Im speakin' the truth, and plainly so. Miss Baggins is a dear friend, and we're all are mighty fond of her- yes we are, no denyin' it. The fact that she is easy on eyes, well, consider it as a bonus, won't ya?"

The Hobbit flushed even more, though she couldn't help but feel pleased at the miner's words. Bofur ducked once moreas Dori's hefty hand shot forwards to land a blow at the side of his head, but he wasn't as fortunate as the last time.

Bellana took that as her cue to leave when another fight brewed up, suppressing her laughter as half of the Dwarrow came around to spur them on. She had grown very fond of them too, she realized. They all looked after her, in their own way, in their own way.

Though that would change. 

Her light footsteps halted altogether as she reached the fountain, her eyes gazing unseeingly at the ripples on the surface of crystal clear water.

Even if the Dwarrow were now kind enough to include her in the company and their conversation, and Bofur was always up for a merry joke whereas Ori would happily swap stories with her and Fíli and Kíli had became her firm friends and Thorin had expressed keen interest in pursuing friendship with her; that would change once they reached the mountain and succeeded in the Quest. They would all surely lose interest in the Hobbit they travelled alongside the road. 

Then she would be left alone once again.

Suddenly it was all too much, and Bellana furiously splashed water on her face, rinsing it thoroughly. Deciding to forgo breakfast, she wended her way towards one of Rivendell's innumerable, glorious gardens. She couldn't bear to face the others again, not yet- or possibly ever.

"Bellana!"

Of course. The Hobbit should have saw it coming. After all, when had ever a wish of her been granted?

Plastering a smile, she automatically whirled around- only to have her arm pinched.

"None of that," Kíli said, over her wince. "Why are you out here, all alone? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Bellana swallowed, steadfastly ignoring Fíli's penetrating gaze. "I- I am out for a refreshing walk. Lovely morning, isn't it?"

"Indeed, it's a fine morning" Fíli replied mildly. "But you seemingly, are not."

"Oh for sweet peonies sake-"

"It's no use lying to us." Kíli tweaked her curls, his eyes softening. "You know, you can't really hide what you're feeling at the moment. You wear your heart on your skirt."

Fíli reached over to pinch his ear, laughing. "It's wear your heart on your sleeve, midget! But anyways- my brother is correct though his idioms might not be." His penetrating eyes turned towards her as he said gently. "You're distressed, Bellana."

"I do not require an evaluation of me feelings, of all things, in the morning." Bellana carefully stepped back, and Kíli pulled back hand. Guilt surged in her heart as hurt and confusion flashed across his face but Bellana firmly told herself that it was all for the greater good.

She couldn't get attached and fall into that wretched hole again. Even now something thumped in her heart, an odd sort of warmth that swelled and pooled inside her, and felt fearfully like affection.

There was only pain and heartbreak awaiting her, down that path. And Bellana wasn't willing to suffer through that again. It would _break_ her.

"If you would excuse me- I have to go. _Please_." Mind made up, Bellana wanted to get away quickly before her resolve wavered but found her path blocked.

"We are not here to force you, into anything." Fíli stated and inched forwards. "But last night, you were willing. Last night you agreed!" His deep voice rose slightly, and the hitch towards the end was unmistakable. "What changed your mind?"

Looking up was a nigh impossible feat, but she forced herself to do so and allowed him to hold her gaze. They deserved an explanation at the least, along with a sincere apology. Bellana realized, perhaps she had been leading them on. It was hard, Yavanna it was hard, knowing about the pain and disappointment her decision would cause them and being completely helpless in preventing it.

"Fíli and Kíli, I cannot do this. I cannot consent to be your sister, though I would like you to know that nothing else would delight me more. But I- _we_ have been greatly impulsive and I lead you to believe that I was willing to become a part of your family." Bellana managed a small smile. "It pains me deeply to realize that I am going to cause you sorrow and perhaps disappointment by this, though I hope it would be short-lived. You- you are good boys, both of you; strong of spirit but kind-hearted, and intelligent. You have been exceptionally kind towards me. But in time you will surely realize the foolishness of such impulsive decisions, as your uncle once did, and perhaps find it in your hearts to forgive me."

There. That was over and done with. Bellana now, with a clear conscience, continue on the Quest and perform the job she had been appointed for and return home to the Shire if she did not perish in the attempt.

But why did it feel like her heart was splintering into shards, when she had been the one to end things this time?

The Dwarrow, who had remained silent during her speech, now spoke up. "Why?" Kíli demanded, and oh blessed Eru, where Fíli's eyes were hard and set; his brother's gleamed with unshed tears. "Huh-how-how can you do this? Do- do you think us not to be worthy enough to be your brothers?"

"Are you out of your mind?!" To compost heap with keeping her cool, how could he fathom such a thing? "Not worthy enough? Fudge! It is I who is not worthy!"

A fire raged in Fíli's eyes as he advanced closer and his mouth parted, evidently to contradict her claim but Bellana shushed him with all ferocity of a Dragon. "Don't you dare interrupt me, Fíli son of Víli! Just look at yourselves! You are from the race of Dwarrow! I am but a simple Hobbit, if it escaped _your_ notice. You're out to reclaim your home, but mine is in the Shire. It is where I shall return when this journey if over and done with- provided that we do not become dinner for a Firedrake instead of Mountain Trolls."

The duo stared at her as if she had grown an extra head.

"Is that it?" Kíli spluttered. His eyes widened with disbelief and sudden realization. "You think we're gonna pull an Uncle Frerin, and dump you once we reach Erebor?"

Bellana, in all honesty, would have expected Fíli to read between her lines. But Kíli really was more perceptive than he lead on. Not for nothing was he an heir of Durin, fond as the Prince was of playing the fool. But Bellana recalled how it was like to be a tween; joyful and carefree, full to the brim with mischief and she would never begrudge him that.

"Honestly?" Fíli's face mirrored his younger counterpart's incredulous expression and Bellana felt a sudden urge to smack his head. _Idiots_. Couldn't they leave her be? Didn't they know how agonizing it was for her to take such a devastating step? "Bellana, I shouldn't probably say this of my sister, but I cannot for my life imagine how someone can be this _stupid_."

"Stupid?" Bellana gave a humorless laugh. "I was once stupid, yes. But I have learned how to be not so anymore. I know how to cope with-"

"You don't cope. You refuse to cope. You hide yourself behind proverbial walls, isolate yourself from others, and stubbornly ignore whatever transpires." 

"Well, everyone should just mind their own business.” The Hobbit exploded, clenching her wrists. “I’m fine. I’m coping the way that I cope which is to not cope at all. It’s worked fine for the last ten years of my life and I have complete faith that it will continue to work. Now if you would excuse me.”

"We won't back down this easily!" Kíli said savagely. "We have waited so long- your beads were the first thing I made when I came of age! So did Fíli! You can't turn us away, just because you're being a coward!"

_"I beg your pardon?"_

"You won't accept us because you're afraid we'll hurt you!" Kíli roughly shoved away Fíli's arm, advancing on her. "You won't even give us a chance!"

"Because what you seek to do is binding!" Bellana snapped at him, not aware of how her voice raised in pitch. "Or so I thought it was! Before your _uncle_ , my proclaimed father, abandoned me! Kindly excuse me, if that's a cowardly and stupid thing to do but I do not want to go through that again. One experience was enough for a lifetime!" 

She whipped around on the balls of her feet, slipping around Fíli who surprisingly relented and let her go without making any step forwards to stop her. Tears burned in her eyes as Bellana whipped through the courtyard and then rushed inside, caring not for she attracted odd stares from the inhabitants of Rivendell as she passed by them.

But it seemed like the Valar were not merely content with the fact that she was wholly disoriented and on verge of a breakdown. As she passed the Hall of Fire, Bellana failed completely to register footfalls of another person coming round the corner until she turned around herself, collided heavily with a solid figure and lost her footing.

The Hobbit would have probably ended up on the polished floors of Rivendell and cracked her skull in the process, if it were not for the strong arms that wrapped around her waist with a firm grasp and broke her fall.

"Thank you," Bellana muttered as the said arms steadied and released her. She had judged from the stature that it was a Dwarf, her wretched luck that she would encounter someone from the Company when-

Bellana froze. Her hazel eyes met and locked with familiar brown ones, sweeping her out of reality on a tidal wave of emotion. 

What did the say about fates? Do. Not. Tempt. Them.

“I’ve lost it,” she whimpered, staring up at him. 

He seemed far too complete to be just her imagination; everything from the rustle of his tunic to the neatly cropped beard on his jawline screamed at her that he was real, that he was palpable, that she could reach out and touch him.

She had already done so. But now she was hung up on the realization that somehow this was happening, and oh god she really was really going _nuts_.

“You aren’t insane, Bellana” Frerin said, watching her warily, his voice softening to a low rumble in his chest. He reached out to run his thumb experimentally down her cheek, and though she knew she should have shied away from the touch, the tangibility of it was strangely comforting.

“You’re not here- well you are her but not for me,” she answered firmly, reinforcing it in her own mind and informing him of the fact. “Y-you were gone forever from my life, and- you don't care, it was an obligation-

“That’s what they told you.” Frerin sighed. “And you believed them.”

“Of course I believed them! What was I supposed to do otherwise?” Bella exclaimed, her voice rising. “They’re my family! Aunt Donna-”

“Didn’t know what she was talking about,” he countered, angling his chin downward.

“But… that’s impossible,” she managed weakly, leaning against him for support.

“You’re going to reevaluate your understanding of that term very soon,” he remarked, moving toward her again. He pulled her into the strong, supportive brace of his arms again and a sudden warmth fluttered through her. "My child," Frerin's voice trembled suddenly, thick with emotion. "Kurduluh, I missed you so."

Something snapped inside her at this shift in his voice, and Bellana shoved him away. She felt utterly adrift at first—everything was too real to be a dream, tangible and permanent. But now a wave of anger surged inside her.

How dare he face her, how dare he call her _his_ child when he had himself cut of all his ties with her?

Subtly Bellana drew her fidgeting hands together and pinched herself, just to make sure, but to her great disappointment the experiment yielded nothing but a twinge of sharp pain.

Frerin studied her face as she stared at him in wordless fury and there was a shift in his expression. “I should go,” he sighed, looking out toward the courtyard. “I was desperate to see you. I see now that it was a mistake. You weren’t ready.”

“No, but- Oh!” The protest escaped her mouth before she had the chance to register it, and in the brief silence that followed she fumbled with her feelings. Admittedly, she still thought this whole thing was completely insane.

Suddenly it was all too much. Frerin's sudden yell was all she heard before she pushed past him, and then- took off in the opposite direction.

Reaching her room, Bellana slammed the door behind her. Her legs gave out and the Hobbit, not making any attempt to break her fall, slid down heavily onto the marble floor.

For a moment all was silent.

Then she screamed. A wordless scream, raw and full of anguish, that seemed to to come from the very depth of her heart. Broken and desperate, tears began to fall freely from her eyes.. Bellana buried her head in her hands and started to sob, ugly, wracking sobs that shook her curled up frame.

......................................

Bellana reluctantly peeked an eye open, as a soft knock sounded at the door. She closed it again and curled up closer under the comforting warmth of the cozy blankets. She felt quite indisposed to see anyone, and hoped against hope that the intruder would go away.

She had not stepped outside her room all day long and stubbornly refused to open the door for anyone, if the Company wanted to leave without her- they were welcome to. She wasn't much use on the Quest anyway. By the time the sun set Bellana was in a pitiful state, starving, lonely and utterly miserable.

The person outside rapped again, insistent and with more force than the previous knock. It was not a type of knock to be ignored. Brilliant. Apparently the whole universe was united in conspiring against her.

Bellana debated between answering as manners dictated or just completely ignoring it, as she had responded so in the morning. It had taken forever for the Dwarrow to go, and it seemed like they were back again.

It seemed like stubbornness was a universal quality amongst the race of Aulë. 

At the third knob, Bellana let out a frustrated groan and shoved the sheets off as she sat up on the bed. "I'm not feeling very well, thank you very much. Kindly leave me be" 

"I am aware," Thorin replied dryly as he entered inside, holding a tray stacked with a small feast in his hands. "It must be quite a serious matter _indeed_ , if a Hobbit is willing to forgo both her breakfast, lunch and supper."

"Will you go away if I tell you to do so? Or would I be wasting my breath in the process?"

"I believe you know the answer beforehand," The Dwarf closed the door shut behind him, proceeded to set the tray on the bed in front of her and pulled a chair to set by her. Bellana had a sudden urge to throw a pillow at his ridiculously handsome face, astonished as she was by the fact that he had actually gone and brought dinner for her.

"Uh...I don't mean to offend but since when do Dwarf Kings do such things?" Bellana arched her eyebrows, but quickly looked down as she recalled how bitterly she had been crying throughout her self induced imprisonment. She didn't wanted him to see her blotched cheeks and red eyes.

"What do you mean by _such_ things?" Bellana gestured pointedly at the food in front of her and Thorin exhaled a sigh.

"It is my duty to see that the members of my Company are fed. What sort of King do you think I would be if I let those under my charge, starve?"

"I see," Bellana drew a breath. "I will eat the dinner so graciously brought to me- and the King will leave afterwards."

Thorin did not seem very taken at this arrangement. "I brought tea for you, too. Dori made a whole-"

"Oh!" Bellana let out a delighted gasp as he handed her a steaming cup. Blessing of blessings! The Hobbit suddenly felt very glad to have restrained the urge of throwing a pillow at him. "I could _kiss_ you.” 

The words were out of her mouth before she realized it, and Thorin's head snapped up. In the utter silence that followed her statement the Hobbit had ample time to consider the benefits of simply never opening her mouth again.

He just stared at her.

She stared back.

The fire crackled merrily in the room, breaking the silence.

A sudden smirk spread across Thorin's features, his eyes lighting up with a gleam of boyish mischief that she would have expected to see in Kíli. Bellana didn't even attempt to deny how it set off a kaleidoscope of butterflies to set up a party inside her stomach.

"I could take you up on that offer."

Her cheeks burning and even the tip of her ears turning crimson, Bellana quickly brought the cup to her lips and began to take sips of her tea, deciding that the view outside of the window was the most fascinating thing in the world observe in that moment (it was in fact beautiful and breathtakingly so, but that was beside the point). 

But apparently Dori had brewed a fresh pot, for the tea was hot and unbearingly so. Bellana reluctantly placed it back on the tray and vainly attempted not to look at the Dwarf beside her.

But he knelt forwards and that warm thumb she remembered from the night before was brushing the tear trails away from her cheek. Bellana gave up on resisting the urge to look up at him, as Thorin leaned closer and unexpectedly pressed his lips against her clammy forehead.

The look in his stormy blue eyes was strangely intent, as if she was the center of his universe at that moment, and a pleasant shiver ran down her spine.

Bellana was tempted to hide herself in the cocoon of her blankets. Instead she borrowed his large hand from where it rested against the side of her face, examining the weathered skin and calloused palm. She could see dark, fine hair where it dusted over the back; and count the lines in his knuckles and trace the half-moon shapes of his fingernails.

Thorin broke the silence first, his voice deeper than usual as he spoke. "My nephews told me about what transpired in the morning. I have to say that I was surprised by your decision Bellana."

"I-" She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I don't know what to do Thorin. Frerin, he... he arrived here and brought with him the reminder of what I lost once. I don't want to suffer again. I can't endure that kind of pain, and I have never been a brave person Thorin. This- I mean what Fíli and Kíli intend to do, it's a risky investment of one's emotions."

Thorin frowned. "What an utterly practical thing to say."

"What an utterly Bagginsish thing to say," Bellana corrected idly, threading her fingers with his. "I have made up my mind on this, Thorin. I had my experience with Frerin, my estranged Aunt and Remi Lightfoot. I do not wish to repeat them."

Thorin's face depicted no emotion, save for a tightening around his eyes. "And I do not wish to contradict your decision Bellana. But nor do I say that I agree with it. For it has saddened me immensely, and those who I consider to be more than my sons. But then I am hardly anyone to interfere in your matters. Nor did I come here to sway your mind."

Thorin extracted his hand gently from hers and pushed the tray closer to her. "Eat."

Afterwards when the Dwarf was satisfied that she had eaten to her heart's content, he said carefully. "My brother wishes to talk to you."

"No." Bellana replied automatically, shaking her head violently. She couldn't help how her voice took on a defensive tone. "I- I can't bear to- to see him. Surely you understand, Thorin."

"Bella," This time, Thorin reached forwards to take hold of her trembling hands, that seemed so tiny compared to his large palms. "We can afford no delays and after some matters have been taken care off, and the others have their spirits and strength reinvigorated; we shall set out. Frerin himself has to return to Ered Luin- you might never have another chance." Bellana stiffened, for the Dwarf's words were undeniably true. She suppressed the urge to press her hands to her face, given that her right one was still in Thorin's firm but gentle grip. 

It had been a full decade after which she had now encountered her guardian. The realization that she might never _ever_ see him again hit her hard, making her chest constrict painfully. Thorin's exhaled a cold sigh, he voice no more than a whisper when he said. "By all rights he shouldn't even be here."

Silence lingered on for a while, as Bellana fully let this realization sink in. She asked tentatively, as his thumb smoothed over the line of her knuckles. "So if... Frerin is here, then who is in charge of Ered Luin?"

"Dís is currently filling his place- you know of her?" At Bellana's nod, Thorin continued, humor creeping up in his expression. "She is more than capable enough, but not entirely pleased with this arrangement. I can assure you that he will receive another dressing down when he goes back."

Now it was Bellana's turn to grin. "You scolded him too?"

"Scold? That is another way to term it. I threatened to break all the bones in his body. Infact-" Thorin seemed deep in contemplation. "Dwalin might be carrying that out, in this moment. He and Balin are keeping my brother company, or more like preventing him from escaping the threshold of the room."

Bellana shook her head, smiling, but then grew sober. "Before-heck even last night, I desperately wanted to know... about why he left. I thought it might at least let me move on finally, but now- I am terrified of knowing the truth Thorin. I feel as if- as if I am better off not knowing. What if he never loved me? What if he grew tired of me?"

"Do you honestly believe that, Bellana? Do you honestly think someone who took care of you for twenty two years-

"-and left me alone for _ten_ -"

"- would suddenly cease to love you? That he would prove to be disloyal and heartless after so many years of devotion and love?"

"He gave me no reason to believe otherwise!" Bellana snapped, withdrawing her hand from his grip and jabbing it in his chest accusingly. "Don't you dare justify his behavior, Thorin Oakenshield!"

"I am not justifying his behavior, Bellana Baggins. What he did was foolish and utterly wrong. But he is my little brother," Thorin sighed, taking hold of her hand from where it rested against his chest once more. Bellana flushed, and looked down at their joined fingers. "Even if he makes me want to snap his neck on occasions, it is my job to defend him against such accusations."

" _Accusations?_ In your opinion then, it is a false accusation that I make? Impugning his honor?"

"Bellana, stop it." Thorin chided her gently. It made her all the more frustrated, for no matter what she did would the Dwarf relent. He would not rise to the bait either, and oh it was aggravating! "I see perhaps that you're not ready for it, a confrontation. I do not wish to sway your mind. But think of what your heart says. If anything, at least give him a chance to explain when he is willing so. Would you rather listen the truth from someone else's lips?"

Bellana hesitated as Thorin slowly rose from the chair, and gave her an intense, sweeping glance. She scrunched her eyes shut, her hands shaking as she said. "I-I won't have another chance, to speak to him..."

"No, I don't think so. We have no guarantee of life, Bellana. In fact-" Thorin hesitated. "I would rather have you stay here- the journey will be harder from this stage."

"No, no, no no! You can do that! I-I must go on!" In a burst of uncharacteristic anger, Bellana finally gave in to temptation and threw a pillow at the Dwarf with all strength she could muster. "I signed the contract! You can't make that decision for me now, even if you think that I'm weak and not good enough!"

Thorin gazed at her in surprise and slowly picked up the pillow from the floor, and the hobbit silently dared him to utter a word.

"I did not say that."

"It was implied!"

"It was certainly not!"

"Was too!"

_"Was not!"_

Thorin neatly deflected the second pillow aimed at him, with an half irritated half amused glance shot at her.

"Madam, if I may be so bold, how _old_ are you?"

"It is not proper, asking after the age of a women." Bellana retorted, sticking her chin out. Without warning, an object struck her face, bounced off and landed in her lap. 

Thorin's eyes gleamed with impish mirth, his lips curled up in a boyish smile. Bellana let out an indignant squawk, picked up the pillow and the fight ensued.

They didn't register someone rapping on the door, nor did they saw the door being swung open.

"What are you doing in my daughter's room-" Frerin's wrists were clenched and his eyes flashed wildly with barely suppressed anger, but both he and Dwalin stilled in the doorway at the sight of them; brandishing battered pillows at each other.

Dwalin smirked and made an obscure gesture with his hands behind Frerin's back. Bellana wished she had paid more attention when Frerin had attempted to teach her younger self iglishmek, as she observed blood draining from Thorin's face.

The gruff warrior said jauntily. "I'll go and bring our wee rascals, then? They've been mopin' about long enough,got ter bring 'em outta their misery- " He shot a pointed glance at the Hobbit, who _pointedly_ avoided his gaze.

"Just don't say that to their faces," Frerin said, the thunderous expression on his face mellowing . "I'll not be held responsible for the state of your b-uh shins."

As soon as the Dwarf was out of the room, the blond rounded up on Thorin.

"Now what are _you_ doing here, _nadad amê?_ "

"Miss Baggins and I discussing the innumerable cons of Elvish hospitality." Thorin replied without a blink. He proceeded smack his little brother with the pillow in his hand. "As you can see, these pillows are not of quality at all." The said abused pillow finally burst over Frerin's head, covering his long braided hair with snow white feathers.

"Exactly. I have found that even Elves can't accommodate us with right blend of thickness, weight, and softness in the pillows they provided." Bellana glared at him then, "And exactly why would _you_ care about what we were doing?"

Frerin turned around to glare at her, but the sight of the feathers drifting off from his head rather ruined the effect. "If you recall madam, you are most certainly my daughter-"

"Don't play that card on me, Frerin Thunderblade! Any relation, any tie I shared with you ended the day you left!" Thorin was by her side in a moment, and placed a comforting arm around her. Rather than heating up at this gesture, Frerin deflated and shot a grateful look at his brother.

"You can't refute it Bellana." He said with a tight smile. "You might have taken off my beads from your hair, but in spite of that- in spite of whatever transpired; you are still _my_ daughter. I never ended that bond, never took back my claim-

"You couldn't do so , it was supposed to be binding, yes?" Bellana closed her eyes, resisting the urge to reveal the beads that still dangled around her neck, hidden by the high collar of her shirt. "But that didn't stop you from abandoning me, you might as well as have _disowned _me."__

"Bella!" Thorin exclaimed at the same time as Frerin said "Bilbo!", both wearing identical expressions of shock and hurt.

Frerin inched forwards, but the door swung open once more, and whatever the blond Dwarf wanted to say in response died away at his lips as Fíli and Kíli stepped inside.

Bellana leaned to the comfort of Thorin's figure, desperately wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

In that rare moment of empathy with her father- yes he was her father, her guardian still- she felt how it was like to be guilt-ridden and helpless to do anything about it. Fíli showed no emotion as he causally ambled across the room, but Kíli's face was thunderous and his footfalls unnecessarily clamorous. Bellana felt the blatant accusation in his eyes as he registered her and she was very much tempted to flee away as she had done so in the morning- and leave this mess behind her.

 _Now don't be a tomfool of a Took_ , she reprimanded herself. She would be brave this once.

"Now where to began with?" Frerin wondered out aloud, his brows furrowed as the trio seated themselves around her bed. Thorin made no pretense of joining them, and gently maneuvered them so that Bellana and he were sitting side by side on her bed.

"From the very beginning I daresay- and Frerin, _no_. It's your tale, and you shall be the one to tell it." Thorin answered in a firm tone, pulling Bellana closer to his side. "You're ready for it, little one?" He whispered softly in her ear.

"No, I'm not." Bellana replied with a sigh. She felt immensely glad that he was by her side, and felt as if she might just make it through this long overdue conversation without breaking down. "But I know I need it, I deserve an explanation at the very least. So yes, I am ready as I ever shall be."

"Let us start then, Uncle." Fíli said solemnly, and with a set face and a nod; Frerin began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Okay, so I know you were expecting a confrontation and the 'reveal' but yes, it did not take place in this chapter. I am not stretching the story out, but the reveal simply did not fit in well in this chapter. It will occur so in the next one ^_^ Bear with me!
> 
> -Khuzdul  
> Kidhuzurâl: Golden one  
> Nadadith: Little brother  
> Nadad: Brother  
> Nadadel: Brother of all brothers  
> melhekhul: My King  
> Kurduluh: My heart  
> Nadad Amê (Brother Mine)


	10. Author's Note

*Edited*

**Timeline**

 

**Fall of Erebor: 2841 (100 years before quest)**

Thorin: 50 years old

Frerin: 45 years old

Dis: 31 years old

…………………..

**Birth of Fili: (18 years after fall, 85 years before quest)**

Thorin: 68 years old

Frerin: 63 years old

Dis: 49 years old

……………………

**Birth of Kili: (23 years after fall, 75 years before quest)**

Thorin: 72 years old

Frerin: 68 years old

Dis: 53 years old

Fili: 5 years old

…………………….

**Birth of Bellana (40 years after fall 35 years before quest)**

Thorin: 112 years old

Frerin: 107 years old

Dis: 93 years old

Fili:  45 years old

Kili: 35 years old

……………………

**Ages at time of quest.**

Bellana: 35

Thorin: 147

Frerin: 142

Dis: 128

Fili: 80

Kili: 75

………………………

**Coming of age of Hobbits: 35 years**

**Coming of age of Dwarves: 50 years, later 75.**

Lifetime of Dwarves: 250 years

Lifetime of Hobbits: 150 years

Thorin has 103 years to live

Frerin has 108 years to live

Dis has 122 years to live

Fili has 170 years to live

Kili has 175 years to live

Bellana has 115 years to live


	11. Time Turns Flames To Embers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It indeed starts out as a very joyous, very promising day.
> 
> Before everything goes utterly, horribly awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's finally back from hibernation! *Dwarven trumpets sound*
> 
> Shoutout to all you wonderful, wonderful readers who helped me with their kind comments! I'm still keeping up the author note as the comments have motivated me a lot in hard times (read CIE examinations).
> 
> Okay, I can't even start on how guilty I feel for delaying this chapter. I have been working on it since May, but believe me it was a really really tough thing to write. My summer hols have not been easy, I have shifted to another city. I'm living apart from my father and my aunts who have acted as surrogate mothers to me all theses years. I have joined an academy to prepare for next year's Cambridge exams. My result is in three days, and my new school starts next week and I'm fREAKING OUT.
> 
> I wasn't sure if Frerin would relate the story or it would occur in form of flashbacks. I wasn't really clear on what actually happened. The fight scene wasn't going to happen because I suck at them, but it suddenly did. I struggled with it a lot. And this thing became so huge that I had to break it in two chapters. 
> 
> At one point I was about to erase the whole damn thing, but gradually I got my inspiration back and everything started to somewhat make sense. 
> 
> So here it is! Part one of the Big Reveal. Most of you have figured out what happened (I did drop a few clues after all), but I still hope you will enjoy reading it. Brace yourself, the flashbacks are coming. (I differentiated the flashbacks with current time by alternating between present tense in flashbacks and past in current verse as it's the default tense I use. Too much italics make my head ache.)
> 
> Also I don't have a beta reader, so there will be quite a few mistakes. I hope they don't break the flow of the story!

It is a delightful morning of Thrimidge*; the Sun glows overhead coaxing everything green, flowery, spiky and bushy up out of the soil towards herself*, a light zephyr sweeps around the verdant fields, the lush meadows and over the rolling plains. The gurgling streams and rivers have resumed their wonted course and accustomed pace, the frost brought by the chilly winter has completely thawed by then.

The farmers and the gardeners have been up since break of dawn, occupying themselves in various tasks relating but not limited to the tilling of the earth, looking after their golden stretch of wheat fields or tending to their lovely, well-kept gardens. But all of a sudden they are rudely interrupted by a deafening commotion; a dull clanging of metal, stomping of booted feet on the dirt path, loud and gay laughter and deep but jovial voices humming along to a travel song. The intruders, at first thought to be foolish but devious Hobbit tweens (no knowing what they might be up to!), are soon identified as a trio of Dwarrow marching through the East Farthing Woods, followed by yet more burly fellows that look entirely out of place in the Shire.

The travellers have journeyed all the way from Ered Luin to the Shire, along the Eriador. Entering through the distant village of Needlehole, they meandered across Rushbog then further along the edge of the full-fed Water* and then pursued the path that lead them into Hobbiton. Hither and thither through the meadows they ramble, along the hedgerows and across the copses, finding everywhere birds building, flowers blooming, leaves sprouting- everything merry, progressive and occupied.

The early risers among Hobbits have their shock and distrust ease away as they recognise a well familiar figure around the bend with two youthful, barely grown Dwarflings following his wake. They all greet him, or are hailed by him, and then proceed to openly gape at the grim and intimidating armour clad warriors who follow behind, wondering at the strange 'metal clothes' they don.

The news of the Dwarves' arrival spreads as swiftly as a forest fire by the time they enter Hobbiton. Mothers usher their young out of the way of the Dwarrow, the curious tweens stand in their yards and peer out eagerly and even the late birds are roused to stare at the travellers though the sight of wayfarers wending their way through the Shire is hardly uncommon.

Yet it is not just any mere traveller, it is Frerin son of Thrain, known to entirety of Hobbiton; for his amiable disposition, his readiness to lend out a helping hand, and how he continues to care for a child who is neither of his blood nor of his kind. Even kind as the Hobbits reputedly are, with large broods of their own to look after, very few among them remain who would willingly agree to take in orphaned faunts.

In the luxurious smial on summit of the Hobbiton hill or more commonly referred to as 'The Hill', a young Hobbit lass awaits the much anticipated knock at her door eagerly; peering out from the round window of her front hall every now and then. The breakfast table has already been set with enormous platters of food, polished silver cutlery, huge mugs of foamy milk and neatly folded napkins. All it requires is for the expected company to arrive and tuck in.

It indeed starts out as a very joyous, very promising day.

Before everything goes utterly, horribly awry.

..................................................

"Quit yappin' about her Ori," Nori's deft fingers paused halfway through braiding one portion of his auburn hair, and he shot an irritable glance at his youngest brother- who it seemed still petulantly refused his dinner. The Thief shook his head and then fixed a bead at the end of his intricately braided hair. "Dori frets enough, as it is."

The Dwarf in question was indeed visibly perturbed about one thing or another, seated on a delicate cedar bench with Bombur, tapping his boots at random intervals and twiddling with his fingers while the latter stuffed his face with slightly burnt sausages. The Dwarrow had raided Rivendell's immense kitchens (the Elves provided the necessary provisions quite readily and generously enough, so it couldn't really be called _raiding_ in the truest sense of word) in the absence of their leader, and were currently occupied in roasting the stolen goods over a hearty fire prepared from the shards of 'accidentally' broken, shoddy Elven furniture.

The 'mother hen' of the Company was presumably fretting about them either getting thrown out of the valley of Imladris before they fully recuperated or facing the ire of their leader for damaging diplomatic relations with their hosts. This exchange though, didn't escape his notice.

"Don't pay attention to him, Ori." It was quite remarkable really, how Dori managed to reassure young Ori by merely squeezing his drooping shoulder, while simultaneously reprimanding the troublesome second brother with just an irritable glance; but somehow, he did.

Rolling his eyes, Nori fixed another bead set with amethysts to his last braid, seeming almost bored. The Thief's gaze however softened considerably as he turned to face the now slightly less anxious youngest, and said not quite warmly (but almost).

"Dunno why you worry so _nadadith_ , all for nothin' I say. Thorin took plenty of food to the Burglar's room, a while ago. She won't starve, if that's what you're frettin' for."

"Someone else should have taken the food to her room," Ori wrung his hands and shift uneasily. "Thorin always ends up shouting at her."

"I still wouldn't worry so much if I were ya, lil' one." Nori yawned, tilting his head so Ori could examine the end result. The latter nodded his approval. "D' ya want me to do yours too?"

After Ori settled down in front of him, Nori began to ease out the tangles of his brother's hair. Glancing around warily to see whether the eldest worrier was still in hearing vicinity, and finding it otherwise, the Thief leaned slightly forward, and whispered in the ear of the youngest. "Don't ya worry for your friend. Our _esteemed_ leader would let no harm come to her."

"How do you know that?"

"Hush! Not so loud!" Nori pretended to scold him, then said in an even lower tone. "He fancies her."

..................................................

"Wakeup, boy."

He opens his bleary eyes for a quarter of a second, then snaps them shut as the blaze of light floods his vague vision, willing away the excruciating pain that courses through his form.

 _"I doubt that he's even alive."_ A second person is speaking now, in a tongue that's entirely foreign to his ears, though Fíli detects traces of doubt in his gruff voice.

 _"He opened his eyes now, barely for a minute I give you. But he did open them!"_ Now this is a decidedly feminine voice, why are so many people surrounding him?

 _"He's breathing."_ The first voice enunciates slowly and calmly. _"And it's getting steadier now."_ Then switching back to Common Tongue, "Open your eyes now, there's a good Dwarf."

The sky is dancing black and white above the Dwarf's head. Which would be the least of his concerns… if the Sun had already set. But at just before time for luncheon, the sky is supposed to be blue—well, maybe grey since it looked a bit like a storm brewing up when... when... _when Orcs astride their wild Wargs ambushed them._

"Mahal- No!"

Realisation striking him like a blow of hammer, the Fíli quickly attempts to get up and then lets out a sharp hiss as his wounded body protests at the sudden movement. He peers around himself wildly, pushing away the unravelling blond braids from his face.

His hands come away stained crimson.

"Easy there, my boy." The first voice speaks from somewhere behind him. "We are not here to harm you. Lie still for the timebeing, let me ascertain that nothing is broken."

"Who are you?" He growls, instantly on his guard, even before he has fully taken in the trio of Men around him. They are garbed in green longcoats over well-worn leather jerkin with high, supple leather boots.

"Rangers," the second replies though Fíli has already arrived at that conclusion. "We have been looking for you for about an age! Thank the blessed Valar that the Orcs didn't take you."

"Lumorn." The lady shakes her dark tresses and turns her kind, opal-grey eyes towards the Dwarf. "We need you to trust us, we are here to take you to the healers-"

"Where is my uncle?" Fíli cuts in urgently, now that panic has a chance to settle in. "And... Kee and Bilbo- where are they?"

"Everyone is accounted for, save for you." The one called 'Lumorn' responds, his tone considerably softer. He appears to be more or less of the same age as the first Ranger, but his face is gaunt and his eyes haunted and his voice carries a gruff edge with it. "Now, didn't you hear what Halbarad said? Stop squirming around! That Orc did a good job on you, you don't want to move that leg any more than necessary." 

Halbarad. Fíli's certain it's a name that's passed Frerin's lips more than a few times, and he allows his body to relax and glances at the Ranger that assesses him critically with his dark-grey eyes.

"I'm sure I heard about you before." he informs him.

The Ranger grins at him, unexpectedly. "I shudder to think about what lies you have been fed. I have antagonised your beloved uncle far too much for him to speak kindly of me."

"Kind enough," the Dwarf offers a small smile, momentarily forgetting the grim situation. "A saviour in the hour of need or so I heard. Champion of market women?"*

"Not you too!" Halbarad exclaims in mock dismay, as he prods Fíli's knees and the lady flops down, shaking with laughter. "Your Uncle escaped the Orcs, but I'll gladly finish the job next time I see him. Now come on, place your arm on my shoulder. I'm going to help you sit up. All right?"

Fíli nods, returning the grin the lady offers cheekily him. Lessons and various instructions drilled into him time and time again dictate that he should be on his guard and wary, but he perceives well enough that Rangers mean him no harm. From all accounts (well mainly Frerin's) they are good, worthy people however misunderstood by other Men, who patrolled the inhabited parts of Eriador, helping to keep passes, roads, and fords safe for travellers and who were entrusted with safeguarding the otherwise unprotected borders of the Shire and keeping the wicked lot away from hamlets and villages of Men.

And most importantly this group contains a close comrade of his Uncle.

The Dwarf briefly wonders how the Orcs could possibly have gotten through them, then gasps in pain as Halbarad places an arm behind his throbbing back and guides him gently but firmly up.

"What hurts?" The second Ranger, whose name Fíli does not recall, inquires sharply.

The Dwarf wraps an arm around his chest as the world swims in his sight. "Just about everything." He manages to mumble.

He's fairly certain that Halbarad swore although it is in the strange tongue from before, so Fíli can not is not sure. There are far more pressing matters at hand, such as trying not to cause unintentional damage to his already aching body while attempting to straighten up.

"Come on, Fíli." Halbarad says again, more decisively this time. "You Durins are a force to contend with, there are no lasting injuries as far as I see."

"Only a dislocated shoulder, a sprained knee and a broken ankle." The other male Ranger, informs him deadpan. 

"Nothing beyond our ability to heal," Halbarad replies, giving the other a 'look'. "Try to stand, we need to get out of here with all possible haste."

"I'm... 'm trying to, we are heading to Bag End... right?" Fíli cringes as the words leave his mouth, how is he possibly going to manage to cover that much distance when he can barely get up on his feet?

"We're not going to the Bag End." The second Ranger curtly replies.

"But—"

"We're taking you to the nearest healer- everyone else is there." The lady Ranger informs him.

"And the Orcs…"

Halbarad sighs and signs of good humour on his face diminishes. "They are gone- fled as soon as we arrived."

He then winds an arm around him firmly, secure but not too tight, which is good because the Dwarf is beginning to feel like a massive bruise. Even so, he can't help one last protest as he's helped up from the ground. "But—"

"Whatever you're going to say Fíli, don't. I don't care about any of that right now, save for getting you out of here without delay. Now old tight." As soon as Fíli manages to wobble on his feet while leaning on to Halbarad's arm, they slowly start to wend their way out of the forest, putting the horror of that fateful afternoon behind them.

His breathing heavy and erratic, Fíli grimaces before glancing around once more, slightly more aware of his surroundings. He does his best not to allow his eyes to linger on the point where the rotting carcass of the Orc lies- an involuntary shudder runs up his spine as he relives the moment of that terrible fright- nothing in the world could have prepared the young Dwarf for that encounter.

_He believes himself to be safe, foolishly so in retrospect, slightly overwhelmed at the thought of recounting this victory to his elder uncle. Unlike the first time, he stayed calm and alert for the right moment to strike- one swift blow and the beast drops to the ground with blood gushing out of it's thick pelt, dead. His heart in his throat, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he bends down to pluck his stained blade from where it sticks in the Warg's neck- and suddenly something decidedly larger than takes the Dwarf, him unawares and throws him off his balance._

Fíli's one free hand reaches out instinctively for his blade- only to discover it missing from his belt.

A plague of fear bolts through him. Immense trees and bushes stretch before his azure gaze in an endless forest and there's no knowing what perils they conceal. Without any weapon he's utterly defenceless and vulnerable, even with the protection of Rangers covering him from all sides.

"I have your weapons, little one. You can get them from me later when you're able to stand upright." The lady who is rambling on his left, says quickly as soon as she registers his worried gaze and flashes him a grin. "I'm really impressed with the way you dealt with that Warg, quite a tidy job back there for one so young."

Fíli nods quietly. There's not enough strength left in him to form a coherent response. 

The lady perhaps, is not much aware of that for she starts up quite an interrogation. "An unfortunate day you all chose to be away from your home. What were you doing out here so far from the inhabited areas anyway?"

Lumorn saves him from answering, directing a glare at his fellow Ranger. "Don't bombard him with your endless queries, Ríneth."

But already a series of memories meshed together, flash rapidly through the Dwarf's disoriented mind. He does not know whether his brain is delirious from pain which is causing him to experience hallucinations- but in that moment he relives it all.

_On a sudden whim, they mutually decide to have lunch outdoors for the weather is simply glorious. Just having devoured the remnants of a hearty meal in a secluded arbour encircled by immense willows and tall birches beneath the shade of which flourished blossoms of every imaginable colour; Fíli settles down on soft moss under the shade of an gigantic ash tree, blowing a ring in direction of his uncle who's alternates between observing the young ones, puffing on his pipe and reading a rather weighty tome. Bilbo and Kíli meanwhile occupy themselves in weaving wreaths out of mayflowers and violets that bloom under Forelithe's sun, the former enlightening the Dwarf on the subject of flower names and symbolism and the latter in his turn comparing the shade of the blooms to that of a jewel._

_After a while, they stroll further into the Bindbale forest for the purpose of 'mushroom hunting'. Not quite a half hour passes when the gentle breeze suddenly picks up, strong enough to indicate a brewing storm, and Uncle Frerin states that they'd better call back the wandering duo and make their way back home to Bag End. It's then, when a hysterical Bounder tumbles out into the clearing, frantic and half-crazed with terror. The world spins in his sight as they are given alarming tidings- of a sudden attack on the Western borders._

_One they are uncomfortably close to._

"Eru, blast my wretched tongue! I must apologise, young one!" The lady says with a sheepish grin, but he doesn't hear.

_There was no sign of Kíli or Bilbo._

"Dwarf, you still with us?"

_Frerin, fearing the worst, at once leaps up, shock registering on his face. His calloused hand reaches out for the blade dangling from his belt, Thorin's gift to him on his coming-of-age, a weapon he always has on his person. Mirroring his uncle's movements, Fíli unsheathes his own dagger and they make for the borders with all possible haste, leaving the Hobbit behind to warn other Bounders._

_A clear, high pitched scream pierces through the endless stretch of forest. Fíli registers the voice immediately and he's part relieved and mostly horrified. Relieved because they have located Bilbo, horrified because his sister's voice is anguished and terrified as Fíli has never before known it to be._

_Frerin's blade, intended to serve as a hunting tool that day, manages to liberate Kíli instead- pale, trembling Kíli with tears clinging bright and stubborn to his eyelashes and dark, angry bruises lining his flesh- held hostage by a wild pack of Orcs that infiltrated the borders and are barely being held back by the Bounders._

_And Fíli's dagger only just saves Bilbo's life, after she recklessly rushes forwards to prevent a Warg from hurling into Frerin when his back is turned._

"Something wrong, Fíli? Are your legs troubling you?"

"I wanted to fight," he croaks in response. "He- he refused. Uncle refused to let me."

 _"Let me stay, let me fight by your side." He begs, for he doesn't want to leave his uncle alone and defenceless. A part of it stems from the vicious need to make the Orcs suffer for landing their hands on his siblings, and another part of him is thrilled at this chance to prove himself._

_"You have your brother and sister to look after." his uncle says and dashes all such hopes. His manner is brusque, clearly leaving no room for any argument or objection, his curt words demands utmost obedience from his nephews._

_'amad used it several times, more often with Kíli than him. Thorin used it as a shield against deliberately unhelpful advisers, overbearing nobles and only a numbered times with his younger brother and his elder nephew. Never with Dís, never with Kíli._

_Fíli has never known Frerin to ever have spoken in that tone, especially while addressing his nephews._

_"Take them and run- don't stop until you reach Bag End and wait for me there. On no condition will anyone of you follow me." He directs the last part to all three, Kíli begins to protest as is his wont, Bellana stands frozen to the spot with a horrified look on her face but Fíli swiftly nods and grasps the gravity of the situation instantly._

_Loathe is he to leave his uncle, but the command to flee is given by the Crown Prince and he's left with no other option- so he grabs both their hands and leads his siblings away._

_They haven't crossed much distance before they realise that a single Warg, running free of its pack, is gaining swiftly on them. Fíli, not even daring to imagine the grim consequences if the beast reaches inhabited areas, breaks away and steels his heart as he bids his brother to take their sister and bolt- who surprisingly offers no further protest._

_He then draws out his dagger again, and faces the vile creature- awaiting the perfect opportunity to land his blow._

Trembling, the blond furtively glances back to where the rotting corpse is sprawled on the forest floor. His uncles are on the surface as contrasting as the day and night, yet they would have both been terribly distraught yet gruffly proud and would have firmly refused to let him and Kíli out of their sights for ages, making doubly sure they weren't outdoors without guards and escorts even though they detested when they had to endure the same. Ma would have embraced him tightly and after making sure he suffered no injuries, she would have launched a tirade for a good many hours, and would have extracted a tearful apology and a firm oath that he would never get himself in danger again.

Dwalin would have made him go through arduous sparring sessions, so he'd never be caught off-guard and Balin would have privately tutored him on various fighting techniques, so he'd be able to better defend himself the next time. 

And Kíli would have sneaked into his room, under the delusion that he's being subtle and stealthy whereas Fíli would already be up and waiting for him to clamber in his bed and surprise him by pulling him into his arms.

He suddenly registers that he's sunken to the ground, and someone's hand is gripping his arm tightly, and all that Fíli can do to latch onto it and hold on. 

"Hey, everything's going to be fine. You are safe now." A soft, tender voice says. The Dwarf looks up, and gazes into the she-Ranger's eyes. "Breathe, alright? In and out, long and deep. Try to calm yourself."

He tries. He really does, thinking that the sooner they get out of this desolate place, the sooner he'll see his family again. 

But by Mahal's hammer it's hard to breathe, to stay calm when he recalls how he failed to remember that Wargs serve as the primary mount for Orcs. The rider of the Warg he felled was not far behind and yet Fíli remained oblivious until it was too late. The Dwarf was taken completely by surprise, and the only reason he thinks makes him able to still draw breath are the Rangers. They must have slain that particular Orc, with his scimitar pressed to the Dwarf's throat.

"Just breath. In and out."

He does as the gentle voice tells him to. It takes too much effort than it should and Fíli briefly considers refusing. Every inhale tastes of blood and aches with the force of Bilbo's scream.

The world swims in his eyes and even with the arms that hold him upright and lend support, he has trouble standing. He takes his time in thanking each of the Valar for giving him the foresight of keeping his dagger on his person this ill-fated morning. The Dwarf briefly wonders if he should ask the lady for it already, rarely do Dwarrow let others barring immediate kin handle their weapons let alone total strangers.

He's still contemplating it as darkness seeps his vision. Halbarad barely manages to catch his limp body before it meets the woodland floor.

..................................................

"I wonder how it will go down?" Balin mused, flicking over the page of the book he had borrowed from the vast library of Rivendell. Elvish perception of Dwarrow was fascinating to read, and only mildly offending.

"Not well." Dwalin grumbled, stamping one foot. He had snorted at the 'poncy literature' in Balin's hands. The latter was internally relieved that his battle-hardened younger sibling was not inclined towards reading, it would be unfortunate if he went through the tome Balin was currently immersed in.

Very unfortunate for current diplomatic relations.

..................................................

The air hangs tense and unnaturally still around them, and this silence is far from reassuring. It makes them wary for such silence is not remotely tranquil, it's an unnatural hush that signals the calm before a storm. The quiet means they have absolutely no idea where the enemy lies in anticipation, and it also indicates if there are any rescuers out there, they cannot locate the lost duo.

Yet, they await rescue with patience and keep silent with the world, all too aware of the fact that something or rather someone has been pursuing them rather persistently even after they left Fíli to face a lone Warg on his own in order to prevent it reaching the nearby villages.

Bellana tries not to linger on that thought. _"Fíli's alive,"_ she tells herself firmly. The alternative is too horrifying for her to ponder upon. 

She shifts her shoulder to make herself more comfortable and suddenly becomes hyper-aware of Kíli's shallow breathing beside her, as if the Dwarf found the very air suffocating.

Bellana trains her gaze at her brother uneasily. They are both crouching against the rough bark of an immense weeping willow and concealed behind enormous clumps of gorse bushes and springy heather which provides sufficient leafy camouflage. The sky above them is threatening with rain but not a single drop has fallen yet.

From the unusual pallor of his skin and the deep furrow in his brows as his dark chestnut eyes peer out and around him constantly, Bellana knows that the horror of the moment they were first captured hasn't completely faded from his mind. The Dwarf sports several fresh marks to remind them why they are hiding out in a desolate forest instead of heading home in the first place.

Identical bruises line her flesh too.

Fortunately, they were discovered before the Orcs could go act on with their malicious threats and deliver fatal blows. Something twists within her, and Bellana desperately prays to Illuvator to keep them all safe; her guardian, her brothers, the bounders and the Rangers. 

The Hobbit then turns her gaze back to the Dwarf, and while Kíli is bravely attempting to maintain his composure; she knows he's hanging on only by a thread. Bellana slips her hand in his, and he stiffens at the contact briefly, but then he straightens up ever so slightly and pulls her to his chest. 

She inhales in the earth, the cool breeze and his comforting scent and feels helpless yet strangely comforted in the warm shield of his arms, and she's aware that he feels a hundred times worse than her, and there's nothing they can do to let go of the constant fear save for clinging desperately to each other.

Not when they're being hunted like this.

"Why is this happening?" Bellana chokes out, and her voice is an octave higher than usual. Kíli shushes her instantly. 

"It'll be alright." He murmurs, his warm breath ghosting over the tip of her ear; warm and comforting. His voice shakes a little. Bellana knows well enough that he’s new to this whole comforting-the-youngest-until-they-stop-sniffling business. Fíli’s the one with a lifetime of experience with that.

To his credit, Kíli does try with all earnestness. "We'll be alright- we'll figure out how to get out of here, but we need to be quiet until they're gone."

His attempts to placate her win him a small smile but doesn't make either of them feel any less wretched. It's worse than Frerin's inevitable departures to Ered Luin, and Bellana never in her wildest dreams would have imagined that anything ever compare could compare to them.

The duo has ended up in this thicket, a part of the long stretch of forests marking the Western border of the Shire where Hobbits rarely ever venture (save for the notoriously adventurous Tooks and an occasional Brandybuck). 

Desperately feeling the need to distract herself, Bellana surveys the area intently. Faint sunbeams trickle down through the dense canopy above and the River spills down through the middle of the treeline, and though she is wary of its rushing depths, it's quite a sight to behold. 

"Mahal, no!" Kíli suddenly exclaims, and Bellana cranes her neck around so fast that she's certain she has whiplash.

"Shut it, Kee." She hisses and elbows him sharply. "And try to limit your movement..."

"I swear I heard someone stepping on a branch-"

_"-all the more reason for us to stay put!"_

A squirrel darts up a mulberry tree under the shade of which it was previously settled, swift as lightening. The Hobbit throws her Dwarven companion an incredulous glance.

He mouths an apology and offers her a sheepish grin, and some of the tension within her eases away. But then she observes with alarm as his dark chestnut eyes widen suddenly, and blood drains from his face.

"What's the matter?" She whispers urgently.

Kíli leans forward, pushing away a weed that is repeated poking him in face to whisper in her ear. "If the Orcs come here, they'll smell us out. This camouflage provides no protection against that!"

Just as that, the ground is wrenched from under her feet. Fear rises up within her and chokes off her breath. _They're going to smell us out, they're going to smell us out, I barely met Kíli and we're going to die._

The squirrel bounds in their sight out of the blue, a ripe mulberry secure in its tiny paws. It tilts it's head to observe them, then bounds further away in the forest.

A desperate plan forms in her mind.

"Up the trees, quickly" Bellana hisses quickly, the terror that grips hold of her rendering her unable to elaborate any further. She watches as his warm eyes, the shade of acorns flecked with honey, cloud with anxiety but despite that he nods.

Out of blue they are startled by a sudden crackling of fallen leaves and dead twigs, indicating the approach of an intruder. It leaves the Hobbit with no opportunity to inquire whether the Dwarf can actually climb or not.

It matters not for Kíli's up a nearby chestnut tree faster than Bellana can say 'fiddlesticks' and, she manages to get a foothold on the weeping willow under the shade of which they were concealed.

Whispering a prayer to the Green Lady, Bellana swings herself up and grabs hold of a sturdy branch. The knot in her stomach lessens slightly for she has been climbing since she could pronounce her own name and she's secure in the knowledge that trees equate safety. 

Hobbits aren’t at home with trees with their height and unstable branches. They prefer to keep their feet on the ground, but in her defence Tookish blood courses through Bellana’s veins and the Baggins blood couldn’t quite dilute it.

So up the willow, she progresses and knows the leaves and the boughs will provide more camouflage than the undergrowth, and they will stay concealed among them until whatever is lurking in the thicket is wearied of hunting them.

 _We'll be alright,_ she convinces herself as her hands become sticky with tree sap. _This is the adventure you were always in search of. Don't chicken out when you're finally living it._

The thought that adventures could be more perilous than exhilarating never before occurred to her. She stubbornly refuses to believe that and tells herself, that her rapidly pounding heart is due the excitement of it all. Not fear, never fear.

Before Bellana can register what is happening- a thick and massive thick arm grabs her around the waist and yanks her down with brutal force. A huge hand clamps over her mouth and all she's aware of is that whatever is pinning her down is thrice as large than her and reeks so unbearably, it almost makes her gag.

What an undignified way to go out! Crushed to death by a tramp who hasn’t seen a bath in his entire existence by the way they stank.

"Scream," A guttural voice hisses in her ear. "And I'll cut you."

It was no tramp.

The pointed edge of a blade kisses her throat. Pure terror surges through her veins, sending icy daggers straight to her heart which feels like it will surely burst from all that rapid pounding. The fear she felt before is nothing compared to what she feels now.

Bellana isn't sure that her lips can form as much as a whisper let alone a scream.

And then Kíli drops from the tree he shinned up into not quite a minute ago with a roar. Foolish, reckless and incredibly valiant Kíli who should have stayed put, should have known better.

It strikes her suddenly that she matches him in personality more so than his actual blood brother, and it's quite absurd how such thoughts are popping in her head when they are surely going to meet their end here in this thicket.

She’ll never get to tell Paladin that she actually got to see an Orc. Well she couldn’t actually see him, but it would have made for a thrilling tale. Such things were not for Esmeralda’s dainty ears but Paladin would have been awe-struck.

The Orc's hold on her releases entirely, and she spins around to see his monstrous figure looming over the Dwarf. He’s decidedly distinct from the long limbed Orcs with spidery arms, they first encountered.

No their current stalker is huge, muscular with flesh pale as milk and terribly marred. His eyes are cold as steel and gleam with cruel victory.

"A Durin," he sneers. The Common tongue rolls off the Orc’s tongues much like his own language, all harsh consonants and sharp vowels. 

It sends a chill down her spine, and with great dismay she registers that in addition to the knife- he wields a spiked club in his other hand.

They stand no chance against this one. 

But the Orc makes no move against them, not yet anyway. He seems to be pleased by hearing the sound of his own voice, which might buy them enough time to be rescued.

If it worked with the previous Orcs, it could work with this one too. Right?

"A Durin all alone and at my mercy. My father shall be pleased. It is many years since he last feasted on Durin’s flesh, but we will feast tonight."

"No!" Bellana shrieks. Gone is the plan of stalling for time, she’s not going to stand for the Orc to speak of eating Dwarves- especially if the Dwarf in question is her brother.

It's so utterly stupid but something Tookish has stirred inside her and she's not going to let that filth harm Kíli.

The Orc whips around to face her. "A midget like you will dare to stand between Bolg and his prey?"

She's unable to block the vicious blow delivered to the side of her head, reeling back and falling hard to the ground. But the Orc towers over her only for quarter of a minute.

A slash so swift that she only registers it as something wet and sticky starts to pour down from the side of her head is delivered. The Orc smiles viciously as he straightens up and withdraws his blade and Bellana dully wonders why was she spared.

Killing them too soon would be considered a mercy in Orcish culture probably. But why risk her escaping, when his back is turned? Orcs have no sense of kinship, he shouldn’t be aware of the fact that she’d rather endure torture than desert Kíli.

The duo left Frerin and Fíli due to their unwillingness to relent and the knowledge they would only be in their way. Frerin could deal with the border threat, the Bounders and Rangers would fight alongside him. 

Fíli apparently dealt with Wargs in past.

Kíli and Bellana have no idea how to defend each other. And there’s no way they are going to leave each other. 

The world spins around her and she’s vaguely mindful of Kíli streaking forwards, his body crashing into the Orc's. It isn't much use for the creature is thrice as large and stronger than Kíli but the blade goes flying out of that gnarled hand and the Dwarf grabs hold of it.

The Orc roars in fury and spins his mace forward. Kíli ducks.

The deadly weapon swings again. Kíli ducks again.

The third time it flies through the air, Kíli dodges it and then swings the Orcish blade up to deliver a nasty blow to the other arm of the Orc- before the blade is swiped away from his hands. It goes flying up in the canopy.

Bellana’s sure it's lost for good, and amidst the pain and blood she somewhat feels relieved by the fact that there’s one less weapon to contend with although she would have appreciated the mace vanishing a tad bit more.

Her hopes are dashed as the weapon drops by her side a moment later; barely missing her bloodied head. She stares at it warily, and picks it up.

The Orc still has his back turned to her, so when she shakily gets up on her feet; he remains unaware. 

Bellana’s not sure whether she should feel relieved or offended by the fact he had the audacity to think a mere scratch to her head would incapacitate her.

She ponders no more when the Orc growls in an uncanny imitation of the beasts they rode. He’s staining the ground with blood as black as smoke and Bellana shudders to think that the foulness of these creatures went as deep as the blood that flowed in their veins. 

He swings his mace once more before the now utterly defenceless Dwarf. 

There's a sickening crack and Kíli flies backward and his back collides with a tree. Bellana watches as he crumbles to the ground and is hauled to his feet once more- then lifted in the air as if he were a ragdoll and thrown heavily to the woodland floor.

"I will end you, _khozd shrakhun._ But first, you watch the Halfling die."

Kíli lets out a groan as he crumples to the ground. Bellana, watching the Orc approach in terror, grips the blade in her hand tightly. She still marvels at the fact that they're both alive, if the Orc wanted them dead- they would be by now.

But there's no time to muse on that perplexing mystery, for she prefers remaining alive thank you very much.

 _The River,_ Bellana thinks. _I should make for the river._

She manages to take a few ungainly steps before the mace comes swinging at her and she's forced to duck and then spin around to dodge it again. The motion somewhat separates her and the Orc from Kíli, which she has expected and intends to keep that way. Kíli has sustained wounds far worse than her, courtesy of the sadistic creatures they had the misfortune of encountering earlier in the day.

She isn't going to let Orcs hurt him again. Not her brother.

Despite that resolution, the Dwarf gets up on his feet once again, his face hard and determined. His back is hunched, his left knee troubles him and he appears very tiny compared to the Orc and yet so courageous. He charges in the same instant as the Orc begins to swing his deadly weapon again- awaiting the perfect opportunity to strike.

In a move that is almost too fast to follow; Bellana rushes forward, grasps her brother's forearm and pushes him roughly away.

The spikes of the mace collide with her back and she slams to the ground face first with a heavy 'thud'.

"Bellana!" Kíli screams and her shriek of agony mingles with his.

The Orc's mouth twists in vicious amusement, and as the pain erupts within her Bellana thinks fate is on par with him where cruelty is concerned. To have them survive a pack intending to make mincemeat out of the duo and feed their remains to their savage beasts; only to let them fall into the hands of their brutal leader.

She briefly wonders if anyone of them would survive this terrible day as darkness starts to creep in her line of vision. But no, she must stay awake; must not give in to the pain. Kíli needs her as she needs him, and Yavanna knows they aren't going to survive without the other.

With a yell of sheer rage, Kíli flings himself towards Bolg, aiming rapid kicks and punches at him. The Orc lashes out in defence and they both stumble a few steps back.

"I'll kill you both!" Bolg roars, causing birds to flee from the treetops. 

Delirious with pain, Bellana heaves herself upwards by her muddied hands- craning around her neck only to register how close the Orc is standing to the silt bank that mark the boundary of the river. A sudden plan strikes her.

It's relatively simple in theory, but the execution would require combined strength of two. And even then the outcome would be tough to accomplish. 

_**"The river, Kee! Aim for the river! Push him in!"**_ Bolg's head snaps up, his icy, piercing gaze fixes on her. The Hobbit looks him straight in the eyes and shudders only because of the pain.

Mustering every piece of courage and strength she has in her, Bellana wipes away the blood flowing down in small rivulets from the exposed wound on her head, grips the Orcish weapon in her hand tightly and positions herself; biting back a wince at the excruciating pain in her back. Kíli mirrors her movement, and although she's unable to ascertain if he understood her strategy- she hopes against hope that he has. 

She does not believe for a moment that the knife in her hand would prove a useful weapon, she does not have years of training behind her and she does not count on maiming the Orc to an extent that would weaken him.

She rather hopes to slip it into Kíli’s hands if opportunity presents itself, despite the fact that he’s barely fifty- he has to have some experience with it.

Just as the Orc rounds up on them, the duo streak forward and crash into him before he has a chance to swing his mace.

Miracles of miracles, the impact is enough to make him lose his footing and plummet back in the gushing river- but she has miscalculated and he only falls halfway in. And he’s already attempting to pull himself out.

She's too late to notice that she herself is standing far too close to the edge of the river, too late to register Kíli's warning yell, and too late to register the pale hand that reaches out to grab her ankle. 

Bellana stumbles down to her knees and the blade is wrenched away from her. The Dwarf reaches forward to help her up, but the grip on her ankle is of iron and it pulls and pulls and pulls her under.

There are raised voices and pattering of feet in the clearing and the clang of metal against metal, but she’s struggling against the Orc, against the water enveloping around her, against the current that seeks to sweep her away. 

The Orc delivers a final blow before pulling himself out and lashing away at the horrified Dwarf with his bare fists. His mace has sunk to the depths of the water a few moments ago, and the knife is embedded in her leg. 

Bellana struggles some more as the crystal water around her is stained crimson. She holds against the pain that stabs at her like a thousand knives and holds her breath as long she is able to, too long in fact.

Red and black splotches dance in front of her and she can't remember if her eyes are opened or closed. The coldness she felt upon entering the water is completely gone. A desperate hot wave has come over her, warming even her frosted toes. Her heart is beating rapidly in panic. The urgency for air is more apparent than ever. There aren't red blotches in her field of vision anymore. It is all black. 

She falls further and further into the darkness until it to swallow her whole. The current causes her limp body to drift along with the waves. 

There's a sharp, piercing pain in her side as she strikes against a jutting rock with a crack and it’s too much for her to bear. The current grows in strength and flings her around.

 _“I’m not a Dwarf,”_ She feels the urge to yell and point accusingly at Eru, the Valar- anyone and everyone who observe the unfairness of the world silently, lending no divine aid, all the while perfecting the art of doing nothing. 

_“I’m not made to endure.”_

This time, she strikes nothing. And then everything.

..................................................

"The lass shall be sleepin' in her room, I suppose, but where do ya think our lads have absconded off ta?" Bofur asked worriedly, as the Company spread out their bedrolls and prepared to turn in for the night.

Dwalin and Balin exchanged a look. "No idea," the former grunted, placing his axes in a neat pile next to his bedroll. Let it never be said that Dwarrow mishandled their weapons.

"Should I go, and look for 'em?"

"Nah."

"Right helpful you are, Dwalin son of Fundin." Nori said dryly, shoving a blanket at his little brother.

..................................................

Peony Smallburrow wrings her hands.

A Dwarf stamped outside a few hours ago with anger on his face and desperation in his heart. The main healer inside, has bidden her to locate him order to deliver the news (or the lack thereof). 

To say she does not feel up to the task will be a great understatement. Peony trembles at the mere thought of facing him again, in spite of her iron constitution, an absolute requirement for any healer (dealings with stubborn ageing Hobbits refused medical herbs or fauntlings who sniffled over the tiniest scrape and shrieked if anyone attempted to treat their wounds could prove very trying otherwise).

She’s heard of the infamous tempers of Dwarves, and let’s just say this one did nothing to quell that rumour. 

Yet she somehow finds in it in her heart to sympathise with him, the main healer should really have known better than to speak of mercy-killing to a guardian.

She peeks inside the room again, biting on the inside of her cheek. Sorrow wells up in her heart- but suddenly someone pushes past her, someone ridiculously tall who halts in steps in order to peer at her with keen grey-blue eyes. 

“I’m known as Strider in these parts,” the Ranger informs her cordially. “Tell me how the wounded fare.”

So Peony did. She recounts the causalities, those fatally injured, those on their way to mend- but the Ranger gently interrupts her flow. 

“There was a Hobbit lass- badly harmed. I intend to see her.”

Peony points to the room behind her and says. “It’s be’er if you don’ go in, just now. Her condition isn’t goin’ to improve with her ward crowded all the time, and her lot aren’ doin’ any favours to her or the healers. 

"What of her condition?" He replies, and there’s a desperate edge to his amiable voice now.

Peony takes a nervous step back. "She’s still out cold- not regained her senses sir, if you know what I mean. Breathing steadied yesterday, or so Healer Hathilde said, but it's not improvin’ any further. The very blood in her veins is poison." 

The Hobbit braces herself, forcing the next words out as if they would choke her. "She… she… we're praying for the best, we are sir- but only Yavanna now can pronounce her fate."

The Ranger's face fell. Without uttering another word, he enters the healing ward. The Hobbit frowns at his wake. 

The healing ward is not meant to accommodate Dwarves or Big Folk, and yet far too many of them clutter inside and refuse point-blank to leave. After various, futile attempts, the healers have grudgingly allowed them to remain inside.

The young healer dithering at the doorway lets out a sigh. Still not quite managing to gather enough courage to step outside, Peony cranes her neck around, only to see the same Ranger now interrogating other healers. 

The same, distressing news is repeated to him by weary voices. Healers proclaim that Bellana Baggins has gone septic. The blade was taken out of her thigh as soon as she was pulled from the leg- the shard embedded inside her skin was extracted too late, and in typical Orcish fashion- it was poisoned.

"She lost too much blood," Peony hears Healer Hathilde saying as she gestures towards the bandages that covered the Hobbit's entire head and her left leg. Her condition stabilised yesterday, but there's no improvement. Skin the texture of dry paper, each breath rasps in her lungs and her stomach too is a mess of bandages and poultice. 

Hathilde Boffin has been called from Bree especially, for the resident healers of Hobbiton- nay of the Shire even- have never seen or treated a Hobbit so mortally injured since the fell winter.

"The situation is out of my hands, I fear- I did my level best but nothing’s working! I believe at this point it would be kinder to slip a little monkshood in her tonic than give life to hope." 

Peony cringes as her senior makes yet the same blunder once more. It's coming, any moment now- 

"No!" The Dwarf with chestnut hair and smooth face all but bellowed from his bed loud crash sounded in the ward. There's rapid succession of infuriated words in some strange language. 

The Hobbit lass waits for his wheat-haired brother to shut him up, instead she hears his voice rising in strength and anger.

The dark haired one has sustained an impressive amount of injuries, and is still confined to a bed. It doesn’t stop him from violently protesting every move of the healers, every single moment. 

Finally, it’s too much- and she slips back inside the room; hoping against hope that Hathilde Boffins will not notice her presence. The brunet is currently pulling out his hair in great agitation, and Peony shakes at that for he'll surely reopen his wounds. 

"There has to be something- you have to heal her!" 

"I am sorry, Master Dwarf," The main Healer replies sorrowfully but firmly. "There's nothing more I can do for her-"

"Then go!" The blond Dwarf who bores an uncanny resemblance to… his father? snaps, sky-blue eyes flashing furiously. "We will save her, if that's the last thing we ever do." Hathilde Boffin huffs, but obliges by quickly scurrying out. 

"Come on, Peony." She says to her assistant as she passed by her. "There is nothing more we can do here."

Peony nods glumly. There's nothing more she wants to do then to save the frail lass who lies unconscious on one of the healing beds. But she knows it’s beyond her ability to do so and Peony turns around with a heavy heart- only stopping when her pointed ears perceive snatches of a hushed conversation inside. 

Sweeping a quick glance around informs her that Healer Hathilde has already made her way to the front hall. Peony steps closer and inches the round door open a crack.

"I might be able to heal Bilbo," She hears the Ranger, who she has spoken to in the hallway, saying to other (uninjured) occupants of the healing ward. 

"But there's no way to gauge how much injuries she sustained internally." Strider seems to weigh his words. "When she wakes up, she might be very confused and well..."

"What is it?" the brunet Dwarf demands. 

Someone else answers him, another Ranger- Peony is certain his name started with an H but isn’t sure how it ends. The name Strider is much easier on her memory, why can't all Big Folk have sensible names as that?

"Bumps and wounds to the head are tricky business. One knock to her head wouldn’t be very serious, but we are talking about open wounds and head bumps here. She may not remember this day- heck, she might not remember us at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**  
>  -khozd shrakhun: Dwarf scum  
> -"The river, Kee! Aim for the river! Push him in!" '-This dialogue is supposed to be in Khuzdul, I'll update it when I figure it out.
> 
>  **Other notes**  
>  -I looked it up, and Tolkien uses Sun as female  
> -Thrimidge is 22 April to 21 May according to Shire calendar/Shire reckoning. Forelithe is 22 May to 20 June.  
> -I actually did a little research this time to track what path Dwarves would have taken to enter Shire if they were from Ered Luin. The Water is a tributary of Brandywine.  
> -Fili teasing Halbarad is a nod to boz4pm's marvellous Panic series on ff.net. Basically Halbarad is prone to find people in danger, or in need of help and he does try to help them which does not always end well for him.  
> -A reminder that Frerin and Fili refer Bellana exclusively as Bilbo while others do not do this.  
> -The flashbacks are in order. Halbarad wasn't lying to Fili when he said everyone was accounted for, I'll explain this bit in the upcoming chapter.  
> -There are plot inconsistencies in this fic, simply because new ideas occur to me as I progress onward. I'll slightly change the way Bellana communicates with animals as they are not sentient creatures in this world among other things. I also did not originally intend her to have met Fili and Kili save for that one encounter with Fili in CG. Which then would have made more sense why she did not remember them. It later struck me that Frerin would have mentioned them enough that she should have recalled they are his nephews. Let's see how I can deal with this little confusion.


End file.
